Belle and the Beasts
by Storms in my Coffee
Summary: "This is heat." He inched closer and felt her soft breath on his lips. "This is desire." His was so near now and she didn't pull away. His thoughts became foggy."This is passion." He whispered.- In this dark, romantic fantasy tale, Belle must decide between a man who would die to protect her and a beast that will never let her go. Hope you enjoy and I look forward to your thoughts!
1. Prologue

Prologue:

There were wolves in the night. Their steps fell silent in the snow. They prowled, noses to the ground.

The scent drew them. Blood and sweat _._ They could taste it. The tongues in their mouths salivated and rolled forward through their teeth. The pack moved as one. Together they hunted and together they would feast.

But the tender flesh, the most delicate bite, was for the creature.

Tempting though it was, none of the young wolves would dare challenge the enormous black beast that led them. It would be tougher hide for them, aged flesh in leather wrapping. The meat was not quite as sweet, but it would do to fill a cold belly.

The smell grew stronger and the young wolves became delirious in anticipation. They moved more quickly, bounding through the snow with abandon, prancing in excitement. They fell into each other, pushing to be first, to have the first kill.

The dark beast paused. The young wolves fell behind, heads hung low, as the alpha emitted a dark guttural rumble. The pack silenced in quiet submission as they arrived at their destination.

There, alone in a patch of snow and surrounded by the looming forest, sat a red coach. It was mangled and leaning slightly to the left. A broken wheel slanted beneath it and the door hung from the hinges. A delicious scent escaped from within.

Blood, sweat, tender flesh, and fear. The fear smelled the sweetest. So close now.

The black beast crept forward. His heavy body hung low to the ground. The only sound in the dark forest was his hot exhale of eager breath.

As his body tensed and prepared to leap, a sound pierced the silence of the trees. It was a single man. It stood in lumbering arrogance and attempted to deter him.

A challenge, though not much of one, presented itself in the form of meat-meal bound in borrowed fur and grasping a metal stick. The tall man stunk of rotten fruit and vines. It wavered on its hind legs, quivering like an injured pup. Not much of a challenge at all. The dark beast snorted and left the pathetic creature for his pack. Turning his head, he gave consent for the attack and moved his eyes back to his prize within the red wooden coach.

He barely heard the cries and crunches behind him as his pack enjoyed their reward. _Let them eat first_. His was not a meal to gorge on. He would savor it. Sample it. Play with it. In the end, he would be satiated, momentarily, until the hunger returned.

A muffled cry from inside the coach drew him on. He moaned and pushed aside the wooden door with a swing of his head. His growl was menacing and low. It rang just loud enough for those within to hear. The spicy musk of fear spiked and caressed his nostrils. The dark beast inhaled deeply.

A soft voice from within mumbled something that he could not understand. He did, however, recognize the panic in the sound. How long had it been since he had felt those feelings? _Distant, distant, gone._ They no longer existed for him. Like other emotions, they were gone for eternity.

He was ready now. With a mighty thrust, he slammed into the tiny space. His eyes did not need to adjust. They were perfect for the hunt. He instantly saw his prey. The bundle in the corner lay silent. The dark one licked a drop of saliva from his muzzle. His eagerness rose and he forgot the soft voice from before.

A stinging pain at his shoulder brought him to a halt. A sharp stick, _knife_ , he thought, protruded from his shaggy black fur. He felt the blood run down his side. The dark one turned and stared at the weapon and the hand that still held it.

A female. She shook and the sticky red liquid slide into her fingers and ran down her arm. She stared at him with wide eyes.

She was obviously weak. The dark one's blood was not the only blood on her. Her legs were caked in it and a puddle formed at her feet as she stood crouched over in the limited space.

She had just birthed. The black beast could sense it on her, as he could with the she-wolves in their den. The air was rich with her fragrance. She smelled of fluids and flowers.

He wondered at her flavor. His teeth bared as he lunged for her.

She tasted warm.

With his tongue still tingling from the mother, the dark beast came back to the child.

 _Finally_.

The babe was silent and for a moment the creature feared it had died. Cold flesh would not do. He pushed his face into its side, rocking it violently. It did not move. The black beast snarled and sniffed the tiny thing. It smelled so innocent. He breathed out. This time the air from his lung misted heavily on the tiny baby's face.

It moved. The child, newly birthed in its mother's grave, let out a piercing cry.

Its arms swung wildly. Its fists beat as if in retaliation. The dark one let out a surprised and amused grunt as little fingers clamped into his fur, pulling with surprising strength.

He should have bitten then. He should have tasted the tiny creature who was so like himself, fighting from birth. He should have swallowed him down and let him rest balmy in his belly. But he allowed himself a second to wonder. Just a second to feel his ill-tempered feast's fingers gripping his fur.

It was a second too long.

Men had come. They clambered down upon the forest in great numbers. He could hear.

 _Foul men, arrogant men._

A moment later the creature saw them. They aimed pointy things at him. Not teeth but just as sharp. Held at long lengths. They jabbed at him. He scrambled away.

Reluctantly he glanced at the child. It still cried. It still fisted the air. He wanted it.

He made a dive in its direction but sharp pricks stabbed through his fur and made contact with his flesh. He growled and bit at it. His razor-teeth chomped on man meat. He tasted one, two, and ripped skin from bone. He licked his triumph from his scarlet stained muzzle. His claws slammed at another, shredding its bindings and flesh.

 _Weak men, stupid men_.

They came one after another, rocking the coach onto its side. The beast had his feast. Not on the flesh of the babe but on the weathered meat of man. When no more came to stop him, he turned from the carnage. His evil eyes gazed back to the resting place of the child. But he was there no more. Enraged, the beast reared on its hindquarters and howled. Tearing through the pile of viscera and bone, he searched.

The child was gone.

When he emerged from the massacre of the coach, the beast landed in one of a different sort. His pack lay upon the red snow. Each one was dead. The air was putrid and already gave the odor of decay. The young wolves, though powerful even in their dead sleep, were all defeated by man.

The dark beast took one last glance at the scene, snorted, and then kicked the snow with his back paws.

 _Feeble pack, conceited men_.

He would wipe them from his mind just as the snow would wipe the crimson stains from his fur. No more thought was given to either as he made his trek back home. His mind was busy elsewhere. His thoughts became consumed with madness.

The forest saw the birth of an obsession that night. During his long run through the branches, the dark one labored in his mind. It was an idea. A plan. Instead of life, he would bring forth death. He would bring dominance. He would never be denied again. His thoughts raced back to his prize.

 _The child_ , he thought. His tiny fist rising. His cries in the night. _The child._ His flesh untasted. _The child._

 _Mine._


	2. Chapter 1: New and a Bit Alarming

Chapter 1: New and a Bit Alarming

 _All castles have ghosts_ , the boy decided. _They are drawn to the shadows and bloody past._ His castle, deep in the secluded woods, was no different and he knew he was never completely alone within its vacant rooms.

Something was always with him. Following him. Something that caused the hair on his arms to spike and his breath to catch in his throat. It was as real as the moonbeams streaming through the tower windows. He couldn't name it. He merely hoped. _Could it be? Was it them?_

Never a fearful child, he sought it out. He would wait for the darkest of nights, then he would wander. A single flame lit his way through the endless corridors and empty chambers. He searched for the souls of his parents. If it was dark enough he believed he might feel them graze his skin as he made his way, room after room.

 _Ghosts always come home_ , the boy told himself as he searched all of the obvious spots for a haunting. He scoured the inside of his castle first; the red study with the animal heads on the walls, the enormous library with its infinite dark corners and stairways. Then he traveled outdoors, stumbling in the night through the leafy overgrown hedge maze of the greensward that wound forever and ever. The boy had no success. Finally, in desperation, he decided to go directly against the wishes of his guardian and venture into the far corner of the castle, to the west wing and the private rooms of his parents.

The apartments had not been disturbed for eleven years. The air in the space was dense and heavy. No footprints spoiled the perfect layer of dust upon the cold marble floor. The boy shivered and pulled the sash tighter on his long gold robe.

In the center of the room stood an enormous four post bed shielded by heavy velvet drapes. A forgotten waistcoat lay flung over a brown leather chair and a vase holding a single dead rose sat on a table by the balcony.

Adam held his breath and stepped into the sacred space. His feet rubbed silently across the dusty marble and left a trail behind him. He scanned the room with hungry eyes.

 _It had been theirs,_ he thought, awestruck _._ He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what they looked like. Not like the unsmiling portraits that hung in the halls but their real faces. The image wouldn't come.

Giving up, Adam opened his eyes. A gown hanging by an armoire caught his attention and his fingers itched to touch its softness. Reaching over, he let his small palm slide down the front of the voluminousness skirt.

It was smooth and slightly stiff. The green satin fabric glimmered in the candlelight. He closed his eyes and pulled it closer, burying his face in its folds. He inhaled the faint, lingering scent of time. The moldy fragrance tickled his nose and Adam began to pick up another aroma. It was subtle, like a gentle breeze from the gardens. He couldn't place it. He had never learned it. _Her scent_ , he guessed. He tried to name it. _Flowers? A spice, perhaps._ It evaded him. His chest tightened threateningly and the boy pushed the gown away.

 _She wasn't here. She would never be here. He was a stupid boy chasing ghosts when all that was left were things._ More _things_. His thoughts raced. He yanked at the dress and dropped it to the floor.

Heaving deep shaky breaths, Adam spun around the room. _Things everywhere!_ He began to feel anger rise inside him. A black flame built within and he exploded in a fury of grief and madness.

He didn't recall the events that happened next. Even as an adult Adam would not remember. The child found himself standing in the wake of a destruction of his own making. It appeared that nothing had survived his temper.

Paintings were thrown and shredded. Fabrics were torn into pieces. Bottles of strongly smelling perfumes pooled on the marble. The furniture lay broken and the kerosene lamps were smashed. All were destroyed. As his anger left him he fell to his knees, careless of the glass that dug into his flesh and sobbed.

Time passed unnoticed. When he finally lifted his head, completely spent, the morning light was streaming through the window. Adam blinked as something caught his eye. Despite all the devastation of the room, the table by the balcony still stood.

He climbed to his feet and he stumbled over to it. There, in a ray of sunlight, standing proudly were the queen had left it, was the once red rose.

The boy's fingers trembled as he reached for it. Then he quickly pulled back. He no longer trusted his own hands.

 _The petals didn't open,_ he absently thought to himself. Adam placed his palms on the table and let his chin drop to his chest. He didn't weep again. He never would. He had cried his last tear that night.

Instead, he began to speak. Not to his parents, they were gone. It was clear they had never come back to the son they knew so briefly.

No, he whispered to the thing that _was_ there.

In his grief he still felt it, hovering around him. The thing that had always been there, watching his steps, counting his breaths. The thing that he spoke to in his dreams and in his lonely waking hours.

In a voice that held little evidence of his tender age, Adam growled, "You are no longer welcome here. Leave now." And when he still sensed the presence, like a humming vibration in the room, he roared at the top of his lungs, "Get out!"

There was a pause, then he felt the warmth seep from the room and had his first moments of true silence. The creature had departed. For the first time in his life, Adam was completely alone.

* * *

It had been ten years since the day he bid the entity to depart. Adam never felt its presence again. If he missed the company or felt its loss, he never admitted it. He had become a different creature that morning. His boyhood days were over.

Adam took to his duties proficiently. The kingdom had a strong and powerful ruler again, one like they had not known since the deaths of his parents, their beloved king, and queen.

Adam held a firm hand on all aspects of his domain, from diplomatic dealings with foreign lands to the amount of wheat in the mills. His mind became sharp through constant reading and his wit grew quick. No man, not his generals or council, could better him in strategy or skill.

As a ruler, he was fair yet unsympathetic. His justice was swift and absolute. It spread quickly throughout the land that certain offenses would not be tolerated and whispers were spoken of dungeons in which no one returned. It became common for the castle to be avoided by most villagers. A person did not go to the prince's domain willingly.

Until someone did.

The night was stormy and the rain so violent it caused the towering windows to shake. The prince walked the floors of his manse.

The wolves were howling in the woods. Sleep escaped Adam on such nights and his body felt more alert and awake than it had in days. Instead of sleeping, the prince secured his palace. His staff was down for the night. Even his tireless butler Cogsworth would be in his sheets. The halls were empty and outside his windows, he could see the guards at their post by the gate.

Adam placed a warm palm on the rain-splattered glass and felt it vibrate beneath his fingers. His brow furrowed slightly. Adam shook his head and turned away. A moment later he jerked in surprise as a loud banging beat upon the castle door.

 _Who would be out on such a night and who could get past his guard?_

Ripping open the heavy door, he stopped in steps. An old woman, bent and wrinkled, stood before him. She was cloaked in black and leaned weakly on her walking stick. Even in the dark rain, he could sense her weariness.

"Sir, may I sit? May I sit a spell by your fire?" The old crone croaked in a voice worn by age.

The prince paused. There was a slight prickle under his skin, almost as though his body was warning him of something amiss. Then he felt an unnatural warmth fill his chest and he instantly, almost unwillingly, put a hand under her bony arm to guide her inside.

"What is the meaning of this? Old mother, what brings you out on such a night?" Adam pulled her through the door and into the castle's dark hall. The servants had left a fire going in the main room and he gently steered her in that direction.

"Come, sit by the fire. Are you hungry?" Adam asked, noting the way she swayed on her feet as they passed the threshold of the ornate doorway. The immense room was dark, with only a single fireplace out of four burning, but it was warm and oddly cozy. The prince motioned for the old woman to sit on one of the plush velvet and mahogany seats but she smiled slightly and limped over to the fire.

"I am never hungry, Beast." She stated, pausing in her steps and turning to look upon his face. A light had come into her eyes.

Adam looked down at this name, confused.

"Beast? You know me not..." Began the prince.

"Now a prince, tomorrow a beast, never to tame, always the same." The crone sang spoke, shaking her stick at him. Her wrinkled skin stretched across her cheekbones as her smile spread. The prince blinked in surprise as her cracked lips parted over perfect white teeth.

"You are tired. You will sleep. My servants will prepare you a room." Adam turned to ring the bell hanging on the wall when she stopped him, again in the strange singing tone.

"Never to sleep, never to weep, never to tame, always the same." The old woman paused and tapped the bewildered prince with her stick. The handle hit the solid muscle of his shoulder and sent a strange shock down his arm. His fingers twitched and he flexed them out at his sides. Then the prince stared hard at the woman.

There was something false about her. The grasp on her stick was too strong. The burning of her eyes, too brilliant. Her cloak, now pushed off of her head, revealed thick blonde hair. All this was strange indeed but the thing that caught his attention the most was the atmosphere around her. It crackled with electricity and made the hair on his arms spike and his breath catch.

A memory began to flutter in the back of his mind and the prince shook his head. Brightly colored images synced to the crashes of the lightning outside and the howling of the wolves grew quieter until they moaned like swirling winds. Adam couldn't stop the images that came to his mind.

It was his own face, though younger, with big blue eyes and the damnable gold ringlets his guardians had refused to cut. He saw himself screaming into an empty room. Screaming for _something_ to leave.

He knew instantly who she was.

"Why have you returned?" The prince questioned low and he took a stride forward. The old woman simply watched him as he moved closer.

She smiled at him and let out a soft, girlish laugh as he took another heavy step.

"Your facade is slipping. Show me your true self, creature." Adam demanded deeply.

"Creature am I?" The old woman chuckled, knocking her stick to the ground with a thump. She lifted her arms and whispered something too low for the prince to hear. Then she dropped her hands to her sides. The air burst and sparked. An amber hue lit the room as all four fireplaces flamed to life. Adam squinted in the sudden light, blinking at the old crone.

But she was no longer there. Gone were the black cloak and wrinkles. Gone the haunting smile and weak frame. In their place was an angelic, golden robed vision whose beauty was as blinding as the burning fire. The prince blinked in the light that engulfed her. He had never seen such a magnificent spectacle and yet instead of feeling awed he was overcome by anger.

The woman looked at him with pity. "I am here to warn you. Another is coming. He tracks your blood." She paused and looked deeply into eyes filled with distrust. "He has for many years. When you no longer allowed me to watch over you, I went to him. To spy. To stand guard. But he sensed me. You beast often do. And I could not stay."

Adam cursed under his breath. His temper was barely contained. "We beasts? Why do you persist in this game?"

"Now a prince, tomorrow a beast, never to tame, always the same." She sang softly in the sad, sweet voice. "I call you your name, Beast, as it shall be." She dropped her head and shook it in regret. "As it is already becoming."

"And what is _your_ name, creature?" The prince asked of her. He felt the heat radiate off of her in waves and the large room began to fill with sweltering currents of energy.

"I am just an enchantress. One of the hundreds who has watched over mankind, protecting them from the beings who would harm them. We defend man from _Him_ and the servants that follow his treacherous path. We guard against the winged creatures of the sky and the monsters of the sea. We are the last line of defense between man and certain death. Or we were." The woman's voice trailed off and she looked out of the long, rain-drenched window. Adam watched her intently, crossing his arms at his chest.

"Were?"

The enchantress did not look at him but continued to follow the rain.

"Were. But no longer. The dark beast, a servant of _Him_ , destroyed them all, one by one, with his monstrous pack. And now it is I alone." She turned to him suddenly, electricity bursting in her eyes. "And you, Beast."

Adam simply stared at her. For a moment no one spoke. The only sound was the storm, the wolves, and a faint buzzing. Then the prince shook his head slowly. The Enchantress turned to him and tilted her head slightly. Her long tendrils of spun gold fell down her shoulders and her expression filled with sadness.

"Yes, you." she spoke, barely above a whisper, "It was always to be you. It is your birthright. You were twice born, once by the blood of your mother and again by the breath of a monster. It searches for you, still, and it will devour the world to find you. As it has devoured my kind, as it devoured your mother."

The Enchantress was before him in an instant. Before her words could register with the prince, her hand pushed forward and Adam felt her hot fingertips on his forehead. The light which surrounded her embraced him as well, and he was once again in a vision.

 _No, not a vision. I am there,_ he thought as the cold of the snow melted into his house boots. _But where?_ Adam gazed around himself at the bleak forest. He knew the trees. They were from the forest that surrounded his castle. The prince turned his head sharply as the sound of wolves ripped through the silent branches.

The lone coach lay on the white banks. The wheels were askew and it was surrounded. The pack was attacking a tall, finely dressed man who was shaking with fear and wine. He knew that man. He had seen his image hanging from the walls of his home every day for the last twenty-one years.

"Father!" Adam called, racing forward. His body slammed hard against an invisible force that sent shocks of electricity through him. Adam sucked in a breath and threw himself against it again. He slammed it with a heavy shoulder and with hard fists. "Please! Please!" He called, but the Enchantress did not appear. The sounds of his father's scream were deafening and the prince fell to his knees in the snow.

Then he saw the creature. It was not a wolf or any other animal he had ever seen. It was a monster. Its long body moved like black tar. Every muscle rippled with strength. So shocked was Adam that he barely noticed they were both on the inside of the carriage.

Looking over, he saw that a bloody woman had stabbed the creature. The massive beast stopped to stare at her quizzically. Then it pounced, teeth bared. Adam felt his heart stop. _No. No!_ He thought wildly. _Not her!_

No effort could reach her. Though the prince tried, he could only watch and fight against an invisible wall as his mother was devoured. Finally, his body beaten and exhausted, he slid to the blood-soaked carriage floor.

The beast then turned to a bundle in the corner. It stood over it, blood dripping from its snout, and pushed it forward roughly. _A child_ , the prince thought, barely seeing the scene before him. " _Me."_

The evil creature growled and blow hot air into its face. The baby within the bundle cried and swung its fist. The dark beast looked on for a moment then flashed its massive teeth and prepared to bite. Instantly the image was gone. The enchantress had removed her touch and he stood immobilized. The Prince stood in his horror for an eternity. His body was clean of blood and snow, but his heart was drenched it.

"Your parents. Never to sleep, never to weep." She whispered.

After a long pause, Adam asked in a deep and deadly whisper, "Where is this beast, enchantress?"

The enchantress examined the steel in the prince's startlingly blue eyes. She breathed out a sigh. Her gaze was filled with pity.

"You will meet him. He will come for you. For you all. There is no one left to stop him."

"I will stop him. My men and I will stop him." The prince had inherited the massive height of his father and the aristocratic beauty of his mother. With his tawny hair about his shoulders and his muscular frame pulled tight in barely restrained rage and grief, his strength was evident.

"No." The enchantress shook her lovely head in sadness. "Perhaps once they might have. But he has tasted enchanted blood. No blade can harm him, no spear can pierce him. We have but one hope. You, Beast. "

He ignored the name and nodded in agreement.

"Tell me what must be done."

"You must finish what has started. The beast within must come forth. To defeat the creature you must become one."

Adam did not speak. The beast within? He felt the darkness rise throughout his body as his mind acknowledged the disturbing truth. The anger, the black spots in his memory. He saw again the dark beast breathe against his face as a babe. _What was he? What must he_ allow _himself to become?_

"Can this be done?" he asked aloud.

"Yes, but it is not without risks. And you cannot do this alone. There is another." The enchantress gave a small hopeful smile.

"Another?" the prince gazed at her sharply. "Who?"

"You will know your savior when the time comes."

"My savior? From what? I don't understand."

The enchantress stepped forward and grasped him by his arms. The darkness within him seemed to pull back and he had to force himself to remain still. "I cannot say much, or the spell will fail. But I will say this. Hold on to her, Beast, when the darkness begins to overtake you. Let her strength guide you. Let her remind you of your human self." The enchantress looked at him earnestly. "Are you ready?"

The prince nodded to her, then paused. "What will happen to my kingdom?"

"I cannot protect them all, but I can protect those within these walls. A spell, to hide them if danger comes to call. Never to see, ever to be. They will be transformed with you until the dark beast is defeated and your enchantment is broken. Now, you must prepare."

Adam stood, feet wide and arms crossed. The enchantress looked upon him noting the determined look on his enraged face and nodded. Picking up her stick she smiled. "Find the savior, defeat the beast and have hope." With this, she struck the stick to the ground and a burst of light hit the prince knocking him backward. It exploded around him, spreading across the room and down the hall covering every inch of the castle with sparks and flashes. The very walls seemed to vibrate. Then, as soon as it started, it stopped. There was nothing but darkness within and the howling of wolves without.

 **A.N.** : **I don't own any of this, all characters are the property of Disney.**

Well, hello Prince Adam, and hello beautiful readers! Welcome! This is a new twist on our favorite fairy tale. Hope it doesn't shock anyone too much! I have adored hearing your thoughts so far. To answer one of your questions, no this isn't a straight Gaston /Belle, or Belle/ Prince Adam story. You will have to stay with me to find out where this is going? Now, here's a question for you...what are your thoughts on our handsome Prince? Tell me and I promise nobody will turn you into a hairy beast! Thank you so much pinkdynomite for being my first reviewer. I can't wait to hear from more of you! As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and/or favoriting!- S.


	3. Chapter 2: Like Gaston

Chapter 2: Like Gaston

Without question Belle was odd. The provincial village of Vouvant had never seen her likeness, and neither had Gaston. With a wrinkled dress and a pencil shoved behind one ear, the girl looked almost wild. Gaston thrilled at the thought. He preferred wild things. He hunted them. The image of hunting this beautiful, strange, freckled girl made a smile spread across his handsome face. Her brown locks were unbound and mad with spiral curls. _When brushed,_ it shone like liquid amber down to her waist. Gaston had long desired to run his fingers through that hair. Today, though, his fingers would likely get caught in the tangles. The possibility intrigued him. An expectant look from the girl made him come back to the present. _What had she said? Something about a book she was writing. No reading. No…well never mind._

"You look lovely today, Belle." He said the first thought that came to mind. Belle pointed a single eyebrow to express her doubt, but Gaston could not deny the truth of his words. Even with her tousled hair and her appearance disheveled, Belle was the loveliest girl he had ever seen. Sometimes it was all he could think about.

"Thank you, Gaston." She responded, following a pregnant pause.

"Now, you tell me I look handsome…" Gaston prompted with a wicked smile.

Belle blinked twice and looked away with a "humph" sound, but her cheeks were decidedly pinker. Gaston smirked in acknowledgment of the effect he had on her and pushed further.

"No? You don't find me handsome? Hmm, shall we ask a less biased observer?"

When he turned around in the busy square Gaston was met with many worshiping eyes. Belle was not the only girl who blushed under his gaze. Three girls, in particular, were never far away. For the most part, Gaston found their constant adoration vexing but today he was glad to discover them nearby. Following Gaston's stare, Belle's eyes widened.

"Gaston, don't you dare!" She ground out through clenched teeth and made a grab for his thick wrist. A jolt of lightning coursed down to his fingers and Gaston sucked in a silent breath. In a flash, he linked a reluctant Belle by the arm and strode over confidently.

"Babette, Bebe, Bernette!" He called out with his most dimpled grin. "How goes the day?"

The girls turned immediately from their conversations and beamed brightly up at Gaston. They spared no attention for Belle, who stood a little straighter and lifted her chin. Gaston smiled even broader at her spirit.

"Better now, Gaston!" answered one of the girls. He couldn't exactly say which one it was. The triplets had no discernable physical difference, and try as he might, Gaston could never tell one from another.

"Yes, much better!" Purred the second.

"Much, much better!" The last female agreed as they pushed themselves closer to Gaston's heavy chest. Belle tilted away in response and Gaston pulled her closer to his side. This instinctual response earned a frown from both the sisters a _nd_ Belle. He chuckled lightly under his breath and pretended not to notice.

"Ladies, I still can't tell which one of you is the prettiest. Darned vexing too! I was just telling Belle, I think you are the best-looking girls in town!"

At this statement, the triplets went into such fits of squeals and sighs, Gaston was sure one of the fragile females would faint. Belle, on the other hand, simply lowered her lovely eyes and fought back a smile. Deciding it was time to interrupt, a determined Gaston went on.

"We were also having a hard time deciding on who is the finest fellow in town. Belle said she's taken a fancy to Jack, the miller's son. And I admit, he does have those dreamy blue eyes." Gaston paused and comically batted his lashes before chortling deeply.

"But I think we can do better than that!" He looked at the girls with arms spread wide and waited expectantly. The three women turned and stared at Belle with outraged expressions.

"What's wrong with you?" Asked the first, pulling at her long blond ponytail.

"You're crazy!" Announced the second.

"He's gorgeous!" Spoke the third, leaning slightly to the side and gazing dreamily at Gaston.

Belle flicked her eyes up at them innocently and asked in a dry tone, "The miller's son?"

Gaston laughed loudly and slapped his knee.

"Of course not, Belle. Gaston!" a triplet answered with wide, serious eyes.

"Who else?" Asked her sister, appearing to be genuinely confused.

"You are so odd!" The third triplet, ( _Bebe? Never mind.)_ stated decidedly as she regarded Belle with an incredulous look.

"Oh, Gaston!" Belle exclaimed in mock surprise. "Do you find him handsome? Hmm...well I suppose he does have _some_ good qualities."

Gaston felt Belle's eyes pass over him and his flesh heated. Her teasing expression gently mocked him. Unafraid, he nodded for her to continue.

"He has a good head of hair. I'm _almost_ positive he won't go bald, though he spends so many hours combing it. Also, his boots are so shiny he could use them as a mirror, and _has_ ," she paused for effect. "on multiple occasions."

Belle smiled innocently as the giant man crossed his arms over his broad chest and began to slowly rub his clean-shaven chin. His eyebrows raised at her words and he gave her an amused smirk.

"But alas," Belle continued, "no matter how I might admire him, he is not for me."

Belle stepped closer to the triplets and whispered behind her hand just loud enough for Gaston to hear, "I have heard tell that his heart belongs to another, and I am no match for her blonde beauty." The triplets gasped and each reached their hands into their identical yellow hair.

Belle turned away from the excited twittering that followed. She placed a light hand on Gaston's shoulder and whispered quietly under her breath. "Good luck!"

Then she hurried down the lane to her little house on the hill.

Gaston's eyes followed her with unabashed adoration before turning back to the ladies fighting desperately to get his attention. Good luck indeed, he thought as he tried unsuccessfully to detach himself from the sisters for the next half hour. Belle had gotten the better of him and his odd little prey had escaped. He smiled to himself, _this time_.

 **A.N.** All characters belong to Walt Disney.

Hello, all! Well, here is your first meeting with Gaston in all his dimpled smirkiness! What are your thoughts? Do you prefer your bad boy with a wink and a smile, or would you rather have him be an all-out villain? As for the triplets, (whose names I had some fun with), I simply went for 17th century mean girls. I'm sure I've met a girl or two like them in my life, (though like Gaston, I couldn't tell them apart!). Let me know if you've met a Bebe in your past and you'll get a shiny boot as a reward!

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! - S.


	4. Chapter 3: This Provincial Life

Chapter 3 : This Provincial Life

Magnificent trees lined the road to Belle's home. Their drooping branches dusted the red dirt below and moved elegantly with the breeze. As a child, Belle happily swung on the outstretched arms of the elms and chestnuts and escaped into stories of make-believe. In her dreams, she was Tarzan the ape-boy or a pirate prisoner walking along the branches like a wooden plank. Even as an adult, when the wind blew chilly and the trees beckoned for one more frolic, Belle could not deny them.

After tucking the hem of her skirt into her waist, Belle reached for the branch of a sweet chestnut tree and swung herself up. The small girl climbed with ease and grace. She quickly lay high above the earth, cradled on a rocking branch. Belle closed her eyes and wished the day away. Feeling the gentle sway of the limb beneath her, she allowed every image to drift from her mind.

All but one.

With a groan, Belle squeezed her eyes tighter. His face remained. Gaston.

She tossed her arm over her lids and tried to think of anything else. It wouldn't do. He was trapped inside her head. Images forced themselves into her mind of his cocky smile, his long dark hair, and his obnoxiously perfect features.

"Even the thought of him is pushy!" Belle grumbled under her arm as she gave up and just allowed herself to think of him.

 _That maddening man! Why did he continue to treat her as though they were still in the schoolhouse?_

Belle swung her leg over the side of the tree. She flattened her stomach against the branch and pressed her forehead to the bark. A young Gaston flashed in her mind's eye and Belle smiled despite herself.

The lad had been all elbows and knees. True, Gaston was always handsome, but it took a while for his height to match his feet and his biceps to match his hands. Belle laughed silently and shook her head, remembering his wiry frame. _And he was so clumsy._ Poor Gaston was constantly tripping over or dropping things. _How many times had she bandaged a busted knuckle or cooled a bruised chin,_ Belle wondered. He seemed to constantly be injured. It almost seemed as though he welcomed the struggles. Without fail, the boy would rise up, laugh heartily, and turn to his friend for comfort and aid.

"Not that he deserved it. Hulking troll of a man!" Belle mumbled aloud, as she suddenly recalled her earlier irritation.

Suddenly, there was a rustling of leaves from the ground. Belle looked down in surprise and groaned. There was no way he hadn't seen her. Gaston saw everything, and he only made a sound if he wanted to be heard.

"Where?" His deep voice asked and Belle laid back down. It took her a moment to understand what he was asking, but when she did, she swung her arm out and pointed to the village.

"That way. Go get him," she instructed helpfully.

"I think not. Better I just stay here and wait for it to come back. I hear trolls like to climb trees."

Belle could hear the amusement in his voice, but she steadfastly held on to her frown. "Gaston, may I help you?" She asked, showing polite restraint.

Gaston chuckled lightly and leaned against a nearby trunk. His dark eyes twinkled and he shook his head in confusion. "Help me? You're the one stuck in a tree."

"Not stuck," Belle muttered. Her voice sounded petulant and she refused to look down at Gaston. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and waited.

"Hiding then. But from whom would the lovely mademoiselle Belle be hiding? Certainly not some troll. She's too brave for that." Gaston picked up a stray branch from the ground and started swinging it at an imaginary foe.

"You are the only troll here, Gaston." Belle corrected looking down from her perch for the first time.

Gaston paused his mock duel and stared up at Belle with wide eyes. He clutched the stick to his chest as if struck. "You injure me, my lady. If I weren't positive this was just misdirected frustration..."

" _Misdirected_..." Belle sat up on her perch and swung her legs down. "Gaston, you are positively primeval."

"Why, thank you, Belle." Gaston smiled proudly and continued to swing his branch.

 _Troll,_ Belle thought, even as she smiled over her shoulder where he couldn't see. Gaston was confidence personified and that self-assured nature was come by honestly. There was no one in town, nor in the all the land, quite like Gaston.

In a village that thrived from the trade, no one shot like Gaston. His beautiful pelts were coveted world over, though his most magnificent work sat in a cupboard in Belle's tiny home. The lovely white cloak with snow fox lining was given to her as a Christmas gift the year before and Belle had never worn it. The fur was _too_ perfect, much like the man, himself.

At almost seven feet tall, Gaston physically towered over other men. He dwarfed them in sport, strength, and capability as well. His looks were unparalleled, though Belle had long since stopped noticing them.

Looking down at Gaston again, Belle noted he had stopped his swinging. His wide back was curved and he rested an elbow on the stick. There was a shimmer in his eyes as he watched her, and she knew he was enjoying her absentmindedness.

"Where'd you go this time?" The giant man teased with a lopsided smile.

Belle squirmed on her perch. A soft pink color spread across her cheeks and a sheepish expression filled her eyes. Knowing full well she was caught boldly exploring his ridiculous _perfection,_ she avoided his question. Instead, she hastily began scrambling down the tree with the least amount of elegance Gaston had ever seen her display. His amused laugh rang out as he reached up. His enormous hands slipped around her slender waist and he swung her easily to the ground. When she was firmly before him, Gaston bent down and peered searchingly into her eyes. Belle quickly glanced away.

"Dear God, Belle, you look plain guilty." He exclaimed in pretend outrage.

Belle gazed up at him. Gaston's face was inches away and she stepped back. "I was um...just thinking of a book I need to return."

Gaston scoffed and bent to tug at her skirt. Belle sent him a questioning look before she realized he was assisting her with her twisted up apparel. When he pulled again the hem came loose of her waistband and she gave him a grateful look.

"Anything I'd like?" Gaston asked off-handedly. His sharp eyes examined the girl before him.

"A girl in a castle, a prince in disguise. _You_ would hate it." Belle laughed lightly and gently shoved his shoulder.

"Got that right." He responded, sounding distracted. Belle turned her back to him and made to leave. Gaston stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His eyes searched hers and he flashed a dimpled smile.

"You look every inch the mad genius's daughter today, by the way. The hair alone…" Gaston moved his hand up and took a curl between his thick fingers. He gently rubbed a padded thumb across the silky strands. Belle watched Gaston's expression go from jovial to serious as he stared at her messy auburn curl. A muscle worked in his firm jaw and Belle wondered at his moodiness.

"I know. I'm a spectacle. I have been wrestling with father's inventions all morning. I only came into town to order some dog-legged-clincher he needed." Belle hastily smoothed her hands down her wrinkled gown.

"Hmm...is that what it's called?" Gaston asked with a slight smile.

"Who knows? He's going to the fair tomorrow, you know. "

"Yes, and next stop world-famous inventor!" Gaston announced, watching Belle's face light up with pride and hope. Gaston's throat tightened and his fingers stilled on her hair. He opened his mouth to say something just as an earsplitting explosion rang from down the road. Smoke rose above the trees and birds flew in the opposite direction. The sound was coming from Belle's house.

"Papa!" Belle gasped and sprinted quickly down the road. Gaston barely heard her "goodbye" before he came out of his spell.

"Wait, do you need help?" Gaston called after the running female, but she was gone. The bewildered giant of a man was left standing in the road. Again.

* * *

Gaston rubbed the back of his neck with a trembling hand. Trembling? His hands never shook. He had the steadiest hands in the land. Gaston blew out a heavy breath and shook his head. _Something had to be done about this Belle situation._

He had tried twice to speak to her and twice they had been interrupted. Not again, he resolved. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would go to her and confess his feelings for her.

A slow heat ran up his body as he thought of her response. He would propose and she would finally feel free to express her true desire. He was certain she loved him. She had for years, ever since they were children together.

Such an odd, tiny girl. Belle never followed him the way the other girls did. She didn't flirt or touch him. She climbed trees and _talked_ to herself. He smiled as he remembered those days when he would tease her relentlessly. Even then, with her brown hair pulled into two ponytails instead of one and her nose continuously stuck in a book, she was the most amazing thing Gaston had ever seen.

He had forced her to notice him as a kid. He pulled those glistening amber locks and constantly stole her books. He'd much rather she look at him than some silly story, anyway.

Yes, _he_ would tease her, but he'd be damned if he let anyone else try! Many boys had lost a tooth prematurely thanks to his fists and an unwise word in front of the massive boy. He had the knuckle scars to prove it, though Belle never knew. He laughed silently as he remembered her pretty face pulled tight in a concerned expression as she bandaged his hands and scuffed knees. _How she scolded for his clumsiness!_ Gaston laughed out loud at that as he turned from the direction of her home.

The girl was perplexing, but she took a place in his heart. It was a small place that could easily be filled by a little brother or a pet dog. Then, eventually, she started spreading out. Without sign or warning, without his _permission_ , she began to occupy the whole darn thing. There was no room left for anything else. Belle conquered his heart and his mind. She challenged him. Infuriated him. She made him laugh like no other. She was his best friend. His future wife. And tomorrow he would tell her and put them both out of their misery!

 **A.N: I don't own any of these characters. All rights go to Walt Disney.**

Hello, Readers! Well, I think these two need to have a little talk, don't you? Oh well, I'm sure it will all work itself out...

And what about you, readers? Let me know if you are enjoying this story so far or if you have any questions and I'll have Gaston save you from a climbing troll.

As always thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting. - S.


	5. Chapter 4: Madame Gaston, Can You Just

Chapter 4: Madame Gaston, Can You Just See It?

Belle awakened to the sounds of clanging metal and the occasional "Damn, damn, damn!" drifting through her open window.

She shook her head as she emerged from her bed and shrugged into her pale blue dressing gown. Wasting no time binding her riot of curls, she padded barefoot down the hall and straight to the back door. It stood wide open, swinging in the frosty air. Belle shivered and clasped her robe closer around her before stepping into the cold. There, lying on the hard, frozen ground, was her father. A hodge-podge array of wood and rusted metal breathed laboriously above him, giving off puffs of smoke into the misty morning sky.

"Papa." The girl admonished in a disapproving tone, causing the little man to jump. "You promised!"

The inventor slid out from under his experiment and stared at his daughter sheepishly. His goggled eyes blinked as they fixed on Belle's face. Shakily, he moved to stand. A cracking sound followed as he straightened his curved back and groaned. Sensing her father's trouble, Belle rushed forward. Her naked feet dug into the earth as she steadied him with an arm about his shoulders. Maurice smiled at his daughter, gratefully patting her hand as they moved to the door.

"I know dear, but I couldn't wait. I think I've done it! Look at her! Isn't she a beauty?" Her father paused on the steps and turned to stare at his invention. Still huffing, it gave a giant clunking sound, a gurgle, and then went quiet. "It's supposed to do that." insisted the man.

Belle smiled and turned him back to the house. "It's amazing, Papa. You are going to be the hit of the fair. But you should have awakened me. After the fire yesterday…" she began.

"Why, I was barely singed." Her father protested as she led him indoors and moved him to sit by the fire. The small cottage was still cold from the long night and Belle shivered as she grabbed a thick flannel blanket to wrap around her father's frame. Then she turned and began preparing water for his tea.

" _Barely_ is bad enough, Papa." Belle readied his drink and handed it to him carefully. She sat on the worn and shabby seat across from him, tucking her frozen feet beneath her. "What would I do if something happened to you?" she asked quietly.

Maurice turned to his daughter. The girl was too small, all folded into her chair. With her big hazel eyes and long curls draped heavily about her shoulders, she still looked like a child, not a woman of eighteen. And yet Maurice knew that she hadn't been a child for years. Not since her mother had passed away. Sadness, still new even after eight years, engulfed him and he sighed deeply.

"My girl, _that_ is something we must discuss."

Belle sat up and placed her feet flat on the ground. "What must we discuss?" She felt the panic rise up her spine and her face went pale.

The old man chuckled and reached a hand to grab hers gently. "Now, now. I'm not saying anything will happen to me. I'm healthy as old Philippe out there. But the time is coming when you will want your own home. A husband. Perhaps even a dog or two." Her papa smiled teasingly.

Belle looked at her father in disbelief. _What could he be thinking?_ She pulled her hand from his and stood. Without thought, she began pacing back and forth upon the worn braided rug in front of the fire.

"But Papa, I love our home. I'm happy as we are." Belle grabbed a spoke and began bothering the fire logs which were already burning admirably.

Sensing her discomfort, Maurice tried a different approach. After taking a long gulp of his beverage he began slyly.

"That Gaston is a handsome fellow."

Belle's arm jerked up from the fire suddenly, causing sparks to fly from the pit and land on the brick and mortar surrounding it. Soot shot forward from the flames. Belatedly she stepped back and began shaking the skirt of her robe.

"Singed, dear?" her father laughed and grinned at the glare from his daughter.

"I'm fine, thank you," Belle answered breathlessly.

Her father continued on as if there had been no interruption. "He's got some good land too. Fine horses."

"Papa, please. Gaston is my friend, not my suitor. Where would you even get such an idea?"

"A man would have to be blind not to see how the boy cares for you." Maurice insisted, unaware that he still sported his thick goggles. Reaching forward with a giggle, Belle removed his clunky frames and folded them in her hand.

"Well that explains it, then." she teased and handed him his spectacles.

Belle's light laugh did not fool her father. He noticed the nervous way she tugged at her curls and sighed.

"He could take care of you, Belle. Offer you a better life." The inventor paused and pushed back a stray curl from her forehead. "You can't waste away your youth on me, girl. It's not what I want for you. It's not what your mother would have wanted." Maurice blinked rapidly and cleared a lump from his throat. "Besides, aren't all the girls mad for him?"

"Yes." Belle nodded absently and went to stand by an open window.

"Papa, even if he did care in that way, and he _definitely_ does not, he's not for me. We want different things. Can you see me spending the rest of my life darning his socks, cleaning his game? Having his," Belle paused, blushing deeply, and began to twist her long hair over her shoulder absently, "his children." she completed with difficulty. "I want more from this life, Papa. There has to be more."

Her father watched as she stared out the window, going to the places in her mind that she so often wandered to. He knew then that the boy had lost her and no matter what, Belle would never look at Gaston the way she gazed after the adventures in her dreams. Shaking his head sadly Maurice sighed.

"Of course there is, my girl. Of course, there is."

 **A.N. This story and characters within belong to the Walt Disney Co.**

Hello again! I want to give a special thank you to Shiloh Grace for her thoughtful reviews. They have been very helpful. Shiloh Grace has a Beauty and the Beast story of her own, _I Have Done It All For You,_ which is an incredibly unique and interesting take on our old favorite. I hope you check it out!

As for this story, we are off again! Shall we see what Gaston has up his tight sleeves? Can you guess, brilliant readers? Send me your thoughts or opinions of Belle's sweet papa and I'll personally wrap you in a flannel blanket. As always thanks for reading, reviewing, following and/ or favoriting. -S.


	6. Chapter 5: Be Still My Heart, I'm Hardly

Chapter 5: Be Still My Heart, I'm Hardly Breathing

Gaston had not been this excited since the day he stalked his first buck. The same anticipation coursed through his body now, as then.

Even as a grown man, he still recalled the thrill of that early morning. He could taste the mist on his lips, feel the arrow sliding between his fingers as he freed it from its quiver and pulled it back with his bow. He could see the animal standing solemnly in the grove. It was silent and surrounded by trees that hung heavy with dew. It was a proud prize. He heard it inhale and exhale deeply, once. Just once. Then his arrow flew and the beast dropped down. The young boy had been filled with many emotions. Exultation, pride, relief, all these overwhelmed his body. He had supplied food for his mother, skins for his father, and respect for himself. It had been a good day. _Today would be even better_.

Dressed in his finest garbs, Gaston knew he looked his best. As he strode down the slick dirt road, he waved at the passing men and nodded at the ladies. He watched their curious female eyes sparkle and their hands move to their chests. The large man chuckled to himself and shook his head. Admiration was nice but there was only one girl he wanted to impress this day.

"Hey Gaston, wait up. What's the joke?" Asked a nasal voice behind him. Swinging around, Gaston looked down at his old friend LeFou. The short, round man struggled to match his stride and Gaston slowed to relieve him.

"No joke, old buddy. Just enjoying my morning. Stunning isn't it?"

LeFou shivered in response and snuggled deeper in his oversized coat. His curly brown hair swung over his ears and his face all but disappeared in his collar. Gaston laughed again and slapped him on the back. "Well, maybe it's just me."

LeFou looked at his friend and decided that he was enjoying more than just the weather. He seemed almost chipper, if you could call a man that size such a thing. In fact, he had only once ever seen him so animated and they had known each other since they were toddlers. The boys learned to walk together. They learned to speak together. And until Gaston grew to be two feet taller than him, LeFou and he had learned to wrestle together. They were as familiar as two friends could be, so it didn't take long for LeFou to guess what was behind his pal's good humor.

"Going to get Belle, ain't ya?" LeFou asked matter-of-factly.

Gaston couldn't hold back his mirth as he placed a hand on the smaller man's shoulder with a grinning nod.

"Bout time," LeFou remarked boldly, as only he was allowed.

"Yes, it is," Gaston growled, his hunger and excitement obvious in his overly alert eyes.

LeFou sighed and shook his head. His red tip nose wrinkled up slightly over the button of his collar. "Gonna break a lot of hearts…"

"They'll get over it. More for you, my friend!" Gaston shoved his friend lightly. "Besides, what do I care for them, when Belle is mine?" he smiled roguishly.

LeFou stopped walking suddenly and grabbed for Gaston, forcing him to pause impatiently. His heavily gloved mitts grasped around a thick bicep and the small man paused before as he carefully chose his words.

"What is it, LeFou?"

"Belle's nice and all but are you sure _she's_ the one?" he asked hesitantly. He knew he was walking on fire by even asking. _How many boys had he seen Gaston pummel growing up? Too many._ He knew talking about Belle was a deal breaker. But he pushed forward anyway, ignoring the voice in his head that told him to shut up and the dangerous look filling Gaston's rich brown eyes.

"What do you mean?" Gaston asked quietly.

"Now Gaston, don't look at me that way. " He pleaded with his hands held up. "I'm just sayin', you could have your pick of girls. Or you could have _all_ of them. Why settle for Belle? She ain't that special. In fact, she's kinda strange if you ask…"

LeFou didn't see it coming. The fist was thrust forward so quickly it had made contact and knocked him down before he knew he was hit. The befuddled man sat on his backside and rubbed his aching jaw.

"I held back. I won't again, _old pal_." Gaston turned to walk away, his mood decidedly darker.

"You won't be needing to." LeFou mumbled in agreement from his spot in the dirt and then called after the departing man "She _is_ real pretty. I'll give you that!"

Gaston shook his head without looking back. _Pretty?_ The man was a fool. _Belle was the most beautiful girl in the world_.

* * *

Saying goodbye to her father was difficult. Belle watched from the porch as he rode away, pulling his hitched wagon behind him. The sounds of clinking metal traveled with him and Belle waved until he was out of earshot.

The girl placed her hands inside the pockets of her newly donned cornflower blue dress and sat on the wood steps in silence. It would be so quiet without her father. She would miss how the house filled with his mechanical cacophonies and lively conversation. She would miss him tasting everything she cooked for him while she prepared it, then never being hungry for dinner. She would miss every bit of his strange and unique madness.

The cold seemed to creep up on her. Belle stood to go indoors just as the sound of whistling reached her ears. At first, she thought her father had returned, but she quickly spotted the man on the road. Heading her way was a very determined, a very distinguished looking, Gaston.

Reflexively, Belle pushed a stray curl back into her loosely tied ponytail and stepped back toward the door. After the talk with her father that morning, Gaston was the last person she wanted to see. It was no use. He spotted her instantly. It was almost as if he could sense her presence. Gaston waved wide and began to jog easily towards her.

Even at a distance, Belle could see he was dressed abnormally fine. _He must be heading somewhere important,_ she thought to herself _,_ breathing a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would dispatch with the expected pleasantries quickly and be on his way. She pasted a smile on her face and waved back.

"Bonjour, Gaston." She called when he was within hearing distance. Then, almost in an instant, he was in front of her. _He doesn't even have the decency of being out of breath_ , she thought to herself grudgingly. He really _was_ perfect.

Gaston smiled up at her with barely controlled enthusiasm. "Morning, Belle. What are you doing out here without your cloak? You'll freeze." He shrugged out of his own fur-lined coat and draped it around her before she had the chance to protest. It was warm from his body and smelled of soap and fresh open air. It smelled like Gaston.

Belle felt suddenly flush and pulled it off, hurriedly handing it back. "I'm fine, Gaston. In fact, I was just going in."

Gaston grinned mischievously and grabbed her arm, escorting her to the door. Belatedly Belle realized that he had taken her words as an invitation.

"What a grand idea. I wouldn't mind warming my feet by the fire."

Before she knew it, Belle was in the house. Gaston had hung his coat by the door and planted himself in a seat by the warm hearth.

"Gaston," she protested, "my father isn't home. He's gone to the fair. Perhaps you should..."

Gaston surprised her by standing and going to look out the window to where her father usually kept his wagon. "Drat. I was hoping to speak with him too. Guess we can just tell him together when he returns." Gaston turned and looked at a delightfully confused Belle.

"Tell him what?"

Gaston raised a brow and gave her his famous smirk. Belle watched as he strode toward her. To her amazement, he bent his great form and placed both hands on either side of her face. He moved closer to her. His brown eyes burned into hers for a moment then fell closed as his lips touched hers.

The kiss was gentle. Gaston pursued her with the restraint of a practiced hunter. His mouth softly grazed her own, barely allowing it to rest for a moment before pulling away. Belle kept her eyes tightly closed. She felt his warm breath on her face as she pulled in her bottom lip. It tasted of oranges.

Belle released the shaky breath she was holding and pressed her palm to his chest. She felt his flesh heat at her touch and finally looked up into his eyes. Her heart jolted at the fierceness of his stare.

* * *

He was lost.

His massive hands moved into the magnificent curls of her hair, pulling her closer to him. He drank of her deeply. His mouth moved over hers, marveling in the perfect fullness of her bottom lip and the feel of her warm breath against his skin. She was flawless, divine. She was beyond beautiful. Never had he wanted anything in his life as he did her. She was his. He branded her with his touch, with his lips and tongue. He parted the corners of her mouth and for a moment deepened the kiss. His blood roared like a river as she melted into his powerful arms. His heart pounded beneath her fingertips. For her, always for her. He drew her closer, engulfing her in his heat. Her tiny frame molded against his chest as he lifted her slightly from the ground. She made a small sound when he left her lips and moved to her cheek, her throat. Her skin was impossibly soft and he ached to taste her.

Then he noticed the gentle pressure on his shoulders. She wasn't pulling him closer but pushing him away. He lifted his head with difficulty and opened lids heavy with want. She was staring at him with wide eyes and swollen lips. Her hair had come loose and was tangled from his fingers. He had never seen her look more desirable. He dropped his head again but to his vast disappointment found her stepping back.

"Gaston," she whispered weakly "what are you doing?"

He eyed her with frustrated adoration and ran a hand through his long dark hair.

"Currently?" He asked, his expression teasingly intimate. "Not what I'd like to be doing." Then, with a sinful look, he moved to reach for her.

Belle held up her hands and stopped him.

Gaston laughed at her innocence and folded his arms across his chest. "Belle, it's fine for engaged folks to kiss. Expected even."

Belle's eyes filled with confusion and she shook her head as if to clear it. Then realization came over her and an expression Gaston had not expected filled her magnificent hazel gaze. _By god, was she upset_? _No. Impossible._ But, if he didn't know better, he would guess she was. In fact, from that look, he would wager she was furious!

 **A.N The characters and story above belong to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as Gaston did! I would like to thank those of you who have let me know your thoughts on this story, especially my guest reviewers and FelineNinjaGrace. Your kind words mean so much to me and really motivate me to keep writing. Sooo, readers, how about that kiss? Is it hot in here or is it just Gaston?! Let me know your thoughts on these recent, um, developments, and I'll send a sexy hunter your way. As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! -S.


	7. Chapter 6: A Most Peculiar Mademoiselle

Chapter 6: A Most Peculiar Mademoiselle

Belle's countenance was deceptively still. Her only movement was the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the blinking of her cat-like eyes. Anger and irritation crashed over her in waves. Two things she was certain of, One: Gaston had gone too far this time, and Two: She was going to kill him.

"Amazing." Belle spoke, sounding embarrassingly breathless. She raised a brow and looked Gaston full in the eyes. "However did you guess?"

Gaston gaped open-mouthed at the fuming woman in front of him and ran a rough hand through his hair. Belle could see from his expression that he was at a loss for words. After shaking his head he stared back at her in bewilderment.

"However did I guess what, woman?" He questioned, flabbergasted.

Belle refused to clarify. He knew perfectly well what she was talking about. It was all so _hilarious_. She stood before him, tiny and furious, hands clenched to her sides. Gaston motioned to take a step toward her but wisely thought the better of it and stayed put.

"Belle, it was just a kiss. Even your father wouldn't fault us that today." He insisted.

Her father? Belle thought, quickly creating a scenario in her mind. That explained it then. Her father must have spoken to him about his ridiculous ideas for her future and Gaston must have thought up this farce to rib her. If she were honest with herself she could admit the humor if it all. She might have even laughed if it hadn't been for _that_ kiss. She had been scorched by it. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and soothed it distractedly with her tongue. It was still warm.

 _No, she wouldn't think of it._ Belle gathered her thick mane and twisted it over one shoulder. She wondered absently when she would be able to breathe normally again.

It took a moment to see Gaston clearly, but then it became obvious that he, himself, had not come away unscathed. His eyes were glowing with residual heat as they stared at Belle's imprisoned lip. His body was taut and restrained. He seemed to be holding himself back from her as his thick biceps were grasped by his meaty hands. She could feel his controlled energy.

"Today?" Belle asked carefully, confused. _Why was he continuing on with the joke?_

A slow smile grew across Gaston's lips and he let go a little chuckle. He placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward. When he spoke it was with a gentle tone, one that would usually be reserved for a child or an invalid. Belle wondered silently which of those he thought she was.

"The day of our engagement, Belle. Your father will understand a simple…" Gaston's voice trailed off and his smile became roguish. "Well, maybe simple isn't the word." His eyes returned to the lips so recently seared by his own. "What would you call that kiss? Intense? Illuminating?" He stepped forward bravely.

"Irritating." she supplied "Enough Gaston. You need to go."

Belle marched to the door, grabbing his coat from the hook where it hung. She held it out to him and motioned pointedly to the door. Gaston did not reach for it. Instead, he rocked back on his heels and rubbed his chin. This was an old habit of his. Today Belle found it particularly annoying. She gave a deep sigh, strode up to him and tossed the coat at his wide expanse of chest.

"Now!" She demanded angrily.

The infuriating man finally stopped his frustrating gesture and for an instant, Belle saw doubt cross his handsome features before it was immediately replaced by his usual confidence. Gripping his garment in one large hand he closed the gap between them. Belle kept her ground and stood toe to toe with the hulking man.

"Playing hard to get? It's a little late for that. I've got you, girl. Just like you've got me."

He reached forward a hand and smoothed back a wild curl. His expression was serious and for once, held no sign of humor. Belle blinked up at him and felt a stunning realization come over her.

It was possible Gaston was not indulging in his lifelong obsession with teasing her.

 _No? Yes!_ Belle debated in her mind. _He was sincere. His kiss had been genuine. He wanted_ her _? He wanted to marry_ her _? No, he had already decided they would marry._ Her eyes widened and she moved a hand to her heart _. Oh, that man! He was beyond infuriating_. _She really might have to kill him_.

* * *

Belle was looking at him with those beautiful hazel eyes. He saw them fill with understanding. _She is speechless in her joy_ , Gaston decided. He smiled to encourage his little friend to express her happiness. Belle remained quiet. When the silence stretched on to an uncomfortable length he began to speak of all of the times to come.

"Think of it, Belle. A rustic hunting lodge. A fresh kill on the fire. Our little ones playing on the floor with the dogs." He stopped then and grinned at her rosy blush before continuing on without mercy. "We'll have six or seven of them of course."

The words had the right effect. Belle came out of her silence and spoke with a choked voice. "Dogs?"

Gaston howled with laughter and threw an arm across her shoulders. He walked her to the old worn out chair by the fire. His sharp eyes noticed, not for the first time, the humble state of her cottage. _She will never have to live in such a home again_ , he smiled to himself. When he brought her to his house as his wife she would have only the most beautiful furnishings. He would fill their enormous lodge with anything she desired. It would burst with new furs, dishes, linens. _She could even have some books to read if she found the time,_ he thought briefly _._

"No Belle, strapping boys." He winked at her "Like me."

Belle sat down in a heap on the seat he offered and avoided his gaze. "Imagine that," she answered dully.

"I do. All the time, Belle." He stood over her and reached for her hand. "I promise, you'll be happy."

Belle pulled her hand away and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Gaston."

Gaston peered down at her in confusion "What could you possibly be sorry for?"

Coming out of her daze, Belle met his look and held his eyes. Her expression almost shook him.

"I can't marry you. I thought perhaps you were joking. You always are. How could I guess you were serious? We've never even spoken of this." She paused and frowned up at him. "Gaston, _what are you thinking_?"

For a moment Gaston did not comprehend her words. The woman was so peculiar. What could she possibly mean by saying no to him? He knelt down in front of her, dropping his coat and one knee to the aged rug. It was suddenly very hot by the fire. A bead of sweat ran between his shoulder blades and a feeling of foreboding began to form in his chest.

"What I'm thinking is that we should marry. What else _would_ I think? You know as well as I do that you want this." Gaston held his deep voice under control and did not allow it to rise in his confusion.

He watched her shake her head. _As long as she doesn't start pulling on her hair, we are okay._ He comforted himself. _What was wrong with her?_ He thought back to their earlier conversations and tried to recall anything that might have upset her.

A memory nagged at him from the corner of his mind. The triplets! _Could she be punishing him for interacting with them? Jealous? Was she irritated that he brought their attention to her?_ Gaston knew Belle held no deep love for them, and that the feeling was more than mutual. _How could he have been so thoughtless?_ He just meant to tease her some. Gaston put on his most contrite expression and set about reassuring her.

"Belle, any girl in town would want to be in your shoes. But I don't want them. I want you. You're the best. The most beautiful girl in town." _In the world_ , he thought silently. "Look, I'm sorry about the triplets. Don't hold it against me for keeps. Marry me," he grinned mischievously, "and you can make me miserable afterward."

For a moment he saw a small smile twitch at the side of her mouth and felt triumph rush over him. He knew how to reach his girl. Then the smile disappeared and Belle ran a hand into her riot of curls. To his vexation, he saw her grab a lock and twist it in her fingers. _Oh, no._ He grabbed her fingers, turning the palm of her hand into his, and prodded, "Well?"

Belle pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. "Well? Well, what you giant brute? You can't be serious, Gaston. We couldn't possibly marry. We would drive each other mad. On purpose. Honestly, I half want to murder you right now and all you did was tell me I'm pretty."

"Beautiful." He corrected naturally.

"See, you've already lost your mind." she smiled slightly, shaking her head.

Gaston frowned in confusion. Did she honestly think she wasn't the loveliest creature...

"We don't fit and you know it. We differ too greatly." She continued, breaking into his thoughts.

"Is that so?"

"You know it is, Gaston. You're the best hunter in the land. I could never hurt an animal." She listed to his exasperation. "I've never seen you so much as hold a book, whereas I have almost burnt the house down trying to read while cooking!"

"Really? When was..." Gaston started but Belle turned her eyes up to his and his breath caught. Her gaze was filled with sadness.

She paused, her eyes drifting down as she continued. "Everyone knows and loves you. They all think I'm odd."

"You _are_ wonderfully odd. Everyone _does_ love me." He agreed with his usual casual conceit and a nod. "That includes you. Doesn't that count for something? Couldn't you go on a hunt with me if I flipped through a book once in a while for you? And I can fireproof the house!"

Belle laughed slightly and tilted her head to observe him with tenderness.

"I love you. I want to spend my life by you. Talking to you. Making you angry. Making you laugh." Belle began, and Gaston felt his heart soar. It was the first time she had ever said it to him out loud. Then as quickly as it ascended it fell with her next words. "Being your best friend, until someone better suited for that spot comes along. Then I'll love her too, for making you happy."

"Belle..." Gaston spoke her name sharply, pushing his black hair back in anger.

"Someone who can love all the things about you that make me furious." Belle dampened her lips and grabbed his hand, watching as it engulfed her own. "Someone who will sit by a fire like this and dream with you, not fight with you!"

"Think maybe she'll rub my feet while she's at it?" He asked, halfheartedly, then his look became almost disdainful. "I'd never look at her, Belle. I want you."

"I'm sorry, Gaston."

Belle really did appear to be sorry. It didn't help. Gaston was not used to failing. In fact, he could not remember the last time he had, if ever. He could not fail at this, not when it meant so much. Not when he _wanted_ it so much. And she did too. He was positive. She had said she loved him. Forget what had followed, that was inconsequential.

She loved him. He saw it every time he made her laugh, every time she blushed under his gaze. He had felt it on her lips when he kissed her. The memory made his heart pound. Maybe she needed to remember it too.

"Don't be sorry Belle. Be honest with yourself. You say I am your friend? LeFou is my friend and I don't kiss him. This isn't friendship." He leaned forward and put his elbows on either arm of the chair, his face inches from her own. He saw her slant away and he pulled her forward with a hand on her arm. Her breath hitched at his nearness and the temperature of the room rose even more.

"This is heat." He inched closer and felt her soft breath on his lips. "This is desire." His was so near now and she didn't pull away. His thoughts became foggy. "This is passion." He whispered deeply, his voice lowering until it vibrated against her mouth.

Her lashes drifted shut and with a sweep of an arm she was in his embrace. His lips pressed over hers in fevered desperation. He would show her she wanted him too. He would teach her what life could be like between them. His lips moved silkily across hers, expertly dividing them and exploring her depths. He tasted her. She was honeyed brandy. His head swam from the feel of the body pressed against him and the mouth that moved under his, so timidly and sweetly. Her response drove him mad. Clutching his shirt front in her precious hand, she was both pulling and pushing him. If she was at war with herself, he felt he was on the winning side. When she pulled her lips away to catch her breath he used the opportunity to nip lightly at her earlobe. "This is where you 'fit'." He whispered into her smooth neck. "Where you will always fit."

Belle gasped and pulled back, staring at him with passion glazed eyes. He smiled in return and kissed her shocked lips tenderly. There would be plenty of time to explore later. For now, he just wanted the promise that she was his. His lips lifted slightly and he whispered in his most seductive tone, "This is love." He felt her shake her head. Taking her face in his hands he dropped another kiss on her stubborn lips. "This is love, Belle."

Her voice was so small and breathless that even with her pressed to his heart he had to strain to hear her. Then he wished he hadn't. "Th-this is wrong." She whispered softly.

He looked down at her, outraged. The bull headed woman was still protesting. What was worse, tears began to form in her eyes. Gaston push her curls back from her face to see her more clearly and felt his heart gripped by an unfamiliar pain. He had lost.

He let her go and watched as she weakly grasped the arms of the chair. Pushing back to his feet in anger he stood and strode away from her. He turned in his temper and glared down at her. "Is there another?" The question was ludicrous. Who could she want more than him? She took a moment to answer and the few seconds were enough to push him over the edge.

"No. There is no one."

He released a heavy breath and swung his arms wide. "Then I don't understand. Are you as crazy as your father?"

As soon as he spoke them, he regretted the words. Belle's eyes lost all sympathy and blazed with renewed anger.

"My father's not crazy and neither am I." she spoke calmly in a clipped tone. "Of course, you think I must be a lunatic to not want to marry the perfect Gaston!" She stood as well and placed her hands on her hips. Gaston would have laughed at the fierceness of the little woman before him if she wasn't in the process of breaking his heart.

"Well, I'll have you know that I am perfectly sane. Sane and _not_ interested. So, you can keep your lodge, your dogs, all of it. I don't want them. And you can go." She scooped up his jacket and marched to the door. Flinging it open, she held the garment outside and waited impatiently for him to follow.

Gaston's own anger was boiling as he stomped his heavily booted feet out the door. Snatching the jacket from her hand, he turned to face her furious eyes.

"Fine. But I won't be asking again for a while. You'll have a nice _long_ time to regret this. Then, if you're lucky, maybe I'll put you out of your misery. If I don't find someone else first!" _Let her think on that!_ He thought silently and strode down the steps without looking back.

"Hang it all!" He grumbled when he heard the door slam behind him and shrugged into his fine coat. Tearing down the curved road toward town he ignored all onlookers and headed straight to the pub. Damn if it was early in the day. That girl could drive a man to drink!

 **A.N. : I don't own any of this. All characters and settings belong to The Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers. First off, ouch! That hurt. Someone just got the "let's be friends" speech. What are your thoughts about Belle's response? Totally justified or kinda harsh? I hope Gaston can get some aloe for those burns! Let me know what you think and Gaston will buy you a dog, or maybe six or seven...As always thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting!- S


	8. Chapter 7: It's a Shortcut

Chapter 7: It's a Shortcut

The sun was setting and Maurice was most decidedly lost. It had been hours since he spied any recognizable landmarks and he was beginning to think his shortcut had not been so short after all. His useless, broken compass had long been abandoned and thrown into the back of the wagon in disgust. His horse, Philippe, stood lamely in a clearing. Huge boulders and broken limbs blocked his way, again, and the inventor felt himself shiver in the frosty evening air.

The forest was starting to come to life with the arrival of the moon. Eerie noises began to echo within its branches. There were some he knew, having researched many creatures in his scientific studies. The hoot of the short-eared owl, low and mournful, was as familiar as the whinny of his horse. He could recall the rubbing of cricket legs and the rustling of nightjar feathers. Small prey could be heard scrambling through the dead leaves on the cold ground and burrowing into the earth for warmth. In a hidden corner the persistent rummaging of a sanglier, most likely searching for mushrooms or berries for her piglets, caused a terrible trembling of branches and a small shower of twigs and foliage. All this, though slightly unsettling in the looming darkness, was not foreign to the inventor. The howling in the distance, however, was something new. New and menacing.

He had heard the sound of wolves many times during his rural upbringing. In fact, in his youth, he had hunted them with his father more than once. He had felt quite safe surrounded by a large group of men and dogs. He was the predator, so to speak, and had done his part to hold back the growing population of wolves from his small village. Now, he felt strangely like prey. He heard the wolves, _so many_ , he thought. He counted with a trained ear. _Far more than should be in any one pack_. They wailed wildly, not in song but in a strange chaos. The howls carried frantic, possibly manic, in the night.

Then the growl came. It was a new sound in an old forest. It echoed hauntingly and seemed to grow stronger as it reached across the trees. It rumbled low and became impossibly louder the closer it came to the lone man on his wagon.

The forest grew suddenly silent. No tree shook, no creature breathed. The inventor and his horse stood still. Wild-eyed in the dim light they searched for the creature who had made that awful sound. The wolf pack had ceased its chorus of disarray and were now as quiet as a tomb. The moon itself seemed to hold back its beams and darkness befell the forest. It was impossible to discern where the animal was located. The inventor's eyes dashed from side to side, following the growl as it enveloped the woods and swallowed its inhabitants. Again it sounded. This time it caused the ground to shiver. _Impossible_ , thought Maurice sensibly. _No creature could force the earth to shake_. And yet it did. The dried leaves on the ground crackled and crunched as though stepped on by invisible boots.

The inventor tightened his hold on Philippe's reins, habitually in sync with his terrified horse. He knew before the animal did that it would bolt. Preparation did not help, though, when the horse did just that. With a thrash of his mighty head, the horse broke the silence of the forest and let forth a pitiful moan. His shoed hooves beat the ground and knocked against the limbs blocking his way. Thorn and thicket obstructed his path but his instinctual need to flee pushed him forward. The spell on the forest was broken and it erupted into pandemonium. It seemed as if all the birds took flight at once, flapping their wings in panic and leaving behind a mist of feathers falling to the ground. The creatures of the earth scurried madly. The screech of claws scratching the frozen dirt and rock resonated jarringly. The sound sent Philippe into a deeper panic. He beat against the trees wildly with his front legs, but each time was pulled back by the weight of the heavy wagon still attached to him.

"Calm, Philippe, calm!" Maurice ordered, leaning far forward and patting his side desperately. The horse swung his thick neck back and forth, no longer in control of his own actions. He pounded the earth, whining loudly over the chaotic racket surrounding them. The growl of the unknown beast continued, only this time it seemed closer.

The inventor felt the panic rise in his throat until it almost choked him. Then he made an impulsive decision. Jumping from the seat of the wagon, the inventor clamored to the icy ground with a thud. Carefully avoiding the out of control animal, he reached a hand between the horse and wagon and set about separating the two. Twice he was almost trampled. On the third try, the latch came loose and released the terrified animal. With all his strength the old man reined in the horse. He pulled Philippe's face to look him in the eye and pat the side of his neck.

"Alright, Philippe. Calm now. There's a good boy." He soothed and rubbed a hand down the horse's side. The animal bounced with impatience and shook his hair out violently. The inventor swung haphazardly with his free arm, pulling the horse behind him. Finally, he pushed past the blockage. He didn't pause when the sound came again, though it was definitely coming closer in the darkness of the forest.

They were making progress. After having pushed passed the boulder and the majority of the brush, the way seemed clearer. If his horse had been less agitated he might have been able to ride him, but in its current state, it was better not to try. Instead, he soothed him and moved forward as quickly as possible. When at last they seemed to have put some real distance between themselves and the creature they came upon another impossible obstacle. A lake, frozen in the early frost and glistening in the trembling moonlight.

"Damn!" The inventor exhaled loudly and began scanning the perimeter for an alternate escape. There was none. Thick weeds and thorns grew between the trees and blocked every possible route. Even if he could squeeze by, Philippe certainly could not.

The howls of the wolves picked up. Their unfeasible numbers seemed to grow so that the inventor could not count them if he wanted to. Worse than the howls was the ruckus of paws against hard dirt and moss. They were coming in droves. Panic washed over the man and his horse. Philippe pulled from Maurice and moved ahead to the frozen waters. Before he could be stopped, the animal slammed onto the ice, sliding across the shimmery surface and knocking his head against the rock-like shell.

Maurice watched in terror as the horse attempted to stand only to fall back on its hindquarters. Each time it attempted to rise it pushed itself further away. As Maurice moved to step onto the lake himself, the ice began to crack around Philippe. "Dear, God!" The man moaned as he watched the surface open and the horse struggle against the pull of the frozen water below.

Then the growling was upon them.

From the outskirts of the lake, from the muddy recesses of the trees, came the wolves. They crept from every corner, their red eyes glinted in hunger as they watched the trapped horse with devilish interest. Maurice flattened himself to the ground, not even feeling the cold wetness seep into his clothes. He held his breath as he watched them draw closer.

The horse, still struggling to escape his frozen grave, blinked madly at the slew of wolves surrounding him. They began to bare their teeth at him from the water's edge and snap their jaws. The snarls became thunderous and the inventor covered his ears against the noise. Then the sound of cracking branches and knocked over trees crashing to the ground forced him to look up in horror.

For a moment the inventor forgot the wolves who gathered by the lake. He forgot about his poor horse struggling for his life. He forgot about everything but the giant animal in front of him.

It was a beast, one that had never been recorded by man before. It was massive, with shaggy black hair and flashing demonic eyes. Without intending to, the inventor began to catalog the creature. He studied it with the eyes of a scientist. It appeared to have the wide forehead and horns of an African steer but the rest of its face was a mish-mosh of different animals. The snout of a stag. The wide mouth of a lion. It had the thick fur of a bison, an animal Maurice had only seen in pictures. Its enormous shoulders and bulging muscular build could be any number of beasts. The great cats perhaps, though it was possibly closer to the prehistoric bone structures his colleagues were constantly digging up. A thought entered his mind that here was a new discovery that the world was not ready for. Would never be ready for.

Its sudden movement shook Maurice out of his reflections and back to the horrifying present. It had begun pacing back and forth on the bank, gazing upon Philippe impatiently. Even at the great distance from across the lake, Maurice could see intelligence in its face. It snarled deeply, exposing long sharp teeth.

It swung its head back and gazed at its companions before unexpectedly snatching one frothing wolf by the throat, shaking its yelping form, and tossing it onto the ice. It immediately broke through the surface and began to sink. Without a second glance at the drowning animal, the beast moved further down the lake. He repeated his attacks, grasping one gray wolf after another and heaving their pathetically protesting bodies onto the frozen water. Mercilessly it observed them sink to their icy graves. A ripple of dread ran through the remaining creatures as they waited for the beast to deal their deaths. The inventor gazed on, jaw slack in shock. The beast seemed to be judging the thickness of the ice!

With one last test, the evil creature tossed a final whimpering wolf onto the hard, solid water and watched it land with a sickening thud. It did not sink but lay prostrate upon the ice. The beast gave a satisfied grumble and stepped forward, its head bent in purpose. It followed the path of his fallen pack mate straight to the still thrashing horse. It was careful. It scrutinized the ice as it moved, laying padded claw to the surface gently, steadily, with calm restraint. It paused once to redirect its course when the ice seemed to give, then it resumed. When it was close to poor Philippe it let loose a low snarl and snapped its mighty jaw. The horse went still. The inventor couldn't tell if it was from fear or, god willing if it had finally succumbed to the numbness of the cold. No matter the cause, the horse had stopped its protests and was quiet. In fact, the wolves had silenced as well. The only sound was the breathing of the beast and the occasional drop of saliva from his snout to the ice.

Then it pounced. The beast, claws massive and teeth like razors, attacked the stricken steed with fervor. It ripped into the horse with unrestrained vehemence, tearing the hide and flesh into long sopping strips of sinew and tendon. It feasted on the animal. Gore, red and pink splashed upon the glistening waters façade and spread in a thick, sticky blanket upon the ice. The beast lapped and sucked at the blood and viscera, chewing on the bowels with visible elation.

Maurice watched in horror as Philippe was devoured. His hands gripped his hair and tears rained freely down his weathered cheeks. The sight was horrific. Never had he seen a creature enjoy the kill so completely. It moaned in pure pleasure as the inventor felt himself collapsed to dirt in despair. Rolling onto his back he gazed up at the trees overhead and wept silently.

The sound of the wolves growing restless brought him from his grief with a start. If he wanted to escape with his life it was time to move. Sliding down quietly away from the water's edge, the inventor pushed through the thick branches. He felt himself slip deeper into the trees. He pushed farther from his wagon, sure that the monster tracker would trace his meal back to it. He submerged himself into the darkness. Behind him, he could hear the wolves begin to grumble about their lack of food. Then the mighty growl of the beast quieted all. Finally, there was silence, followed by a terrible crunching. Maurice stumbled off numbly, aware that the sound that filled the night was the chewing and gnawing of his old friend's bones.

 **A.N. All property belongs to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! Are you all okay and with me? I'm sorry you had to read that! Let's have a moment of silence for poor Phillipe. As you guys have probably guessed this is a different take on our favorite story, so we are going off course from this chapter on. I hope you'll stick with me!

I want to thank a new reviewer frozengirl9712 for taking the time to review, I really appreciate it! As a reward for any new reviews, I promise not to brutally dispatch any more beloved pets for the remainder of this story. As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and/or following! - S


	9. Chapter 8: Through the Darkness and the

Chapter 8: Through the Darkness and the Shadows

It had been nearly a week since her father departed for the fair.

On the fifth day of his absence, Belle began to worry. By the sixth, she had gone into town and found that most of the men had returned to their families and no one had seen her father. The worry in the pit of her stomach grew to dread. That morning she secured a horse. At noon, that same day, she packed her bag and set off on the trail to the faraway town.

It would be a long ride, nearly a full day and night. Belle made sure she filled her pockets with enough coin to rent a room if the need arose. Inside, she hoped against hope that she would meet her father on his way home.

The brown dirt road was empty except for a few merchants traveling to sell their wares. One or two of the men stopped Belle and offered to pay handsomely for her beautiful white cloak. She simply pulled it tighter around herself and declined.

Grabbing the cloak had been a sentimental impulse. Belle was soul-sore and fearful for her father and she reached for it for comfort. The cloak was the closest she had come to Gaston in almost a week.

He had not been back to her cottage since the awful morning of his proposal and she had not seen him in town at all. When she casually questioned after him to the local baker she had been looked at knowingly and told he was out on a hunt. The news didn't surprise her. Gaston was in the habit of hunting when something upset him. Belle sighed. _He had definitely been upset_.

She shuddered as she recalled his words as he left her, _"You'll have a nice long time to regret this!"_

Sitting on her borrowed stead, Belle _did_ have many long hours to torment herself over the subject. _A marriage between the two of them would have been a disaster._ _He was insufferable. Infuriating. Bullheaded and ridiculous. He drove her to distraction_. She reasoned in her mind as the hours passed. _It was ridiculous._

Still, if she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply enough, she was positive she would be able to smell his fresh woodsy scent. She might feel his arms crushing her into his chest.

Belle shook her head and refocused her thoughts. _He's a friend._

The sun was setting. Belle was still some ways from the first town on her route. If her calculation were correct, she would arrive there in just over an hour. Belle gnawed on her lip and bit back her fears. Her father had not been on the road. _It had been a snowy couple of days._ _Perhaps he was delayed by a storm,_ Belle thought logically.

Without the sun to warm her, Belle began to shiver in the open air. Her hands cramped as she clutched the reins. Then, just when she felt as if the cold could not be more brutal, it began to snow again. It came down in a crisp drizzle and the wetness stung her cheeks and dampened the earth.

The stead began to veer off the road slightly as it bent its head to the snowflakes. _Poor horse!_ Belle thought, as she rubbed its neck and whispered encouraging words. He bobbed his head obediently and returned to the muddy path.

Belle felt her lashes begin to frost and her eyesight become blurred. Thinking quickly, she scanned the dark woods for a large enough tree to provide shelter for herself and the struggling animal she rode.

It was then that she made a shocking discovery. There, under a tree, covered in starlight and snow, was an impossible sight. Belle yanked her reins back and halted in surprised horror.

 _How had a child found herself in such a place and alone? Had she been abandoned? Lost?_

Beneath an enormous oak and protected by its outstretched limbs, a child stood staring at the girl on the horse. Belle could barely make out her tiny frame in the moonlight but as she drew nearer her features became clear.

She was small, no more than ten, with a long white gown that reached to her feet. Belle noticed the tiny pink toes that poked out from underneath. _Barefoot in the snow_?

Long blonde hair hung down in ringlets at the sides of the child's face, creating an innocent halo of gold. As Belle reached her, the girl looked up and smiled. Her green eyes seemed to dance as two adorable dimples deepened in her cheeks.

Belle hurriedly dismounted and bent down before the child.

"What are you...why are you here alone?" Belle stuttered, completely confused.

The girl looked back with glistening eyes but didn't speak. Her cheeks were rosy and Belle frowned slightly. _Was she fevered?_

"Are you ill, _mon ange?_ " Belle asked. She inspected the girl quietly but could not see any signs injury. Her relief was great when the tiny child shook her head. Belle peered over her and searched the surrounding woods in desperation. She wondered if perhaps there was a campsite not far away. She squinted through the darkness but saw nothing.

"Are you alone?" Belle inquired hesitantly. Her mind instantly went over every scenario that might lead to a child being abandoned in the cold. _Perhaps she had wandered off from her parents. Or they had left her due to some terrible illness._ Belle was disturbed by the cruel possibility and did not linger on that thought. Then another soon replaced it. _Could this be a set up by woodland robbers?_ She had heard tell of such rouses before, with people pretending to need assistance and then attacking those who offered aid. She looked again into the dark engulfing her but saw nothing. The little girl simply nodded her lovely curls.

"But where are your Mama and Papa?"

The girl shrugged and shivered. Instinctively, Belle removed the beautiful white cloak from her shoulders and wrapped the girl in its warmth. The child sighed and rubbed her plump cheek against the fur collar. She sent a dimpled smile up to Belle.

"Will you tell me your name?" Belle inquired softly of the girl. The child hid her head by nestling lower into the cloak. "That's fine, _mon ange_. It shall be your secret."

The girl smiled and nodded. Belle did not miss the tiny twinkle in the girl's eyes and wondered again if she was being deceived in some way. The forest seemed quiet. _If there were robbers, they were incredibly stealthy._ Either way, Belle felt a sudden urgency fill her mind. _They needed to leave quickly_.

"I think we must get you to town now. It's getting colder. Would you like to ride with me on my lovely horse?"

The girl turned to gaze to Belle's mount then nodded. Belle whispered a thankful prayer. She had imagined that the girl would protest at leaving her spot beneath the tree with a stranger and the idea of leaving her was impossible.

Belle held out a hand and led the girl to the horse. It was easy to lift the child. She weighed practically nothing. Soon Belle was mounted behind her small frame. She grasped the reins lightly and smile down at the child.

"Would you like to help me?" Belle asked, lightly. She took the girl's small hands and placed them on the leather straps. Then with an encouraging look, she urged her to twitch them slightly. The horse took the hint and began walking again.

The child let ring a twinkling giggle, then fell silent. Belle prattled lightly as they traveled, hoping to keep the little girl at ease. All the while, Belle searched the dark woods for the child's lost family. There was nobody at all.

"Do you hear that sound, _mon ange_?" Belle inquired after a long moment of just the sounds of the forest. She waited for a nod from the girl and then continued "It is the nightjar. I have always loved her song. Even when the night is dark and cold our little friend will still sing and bring light into the forest. I have always felt that if I could be any animal, I would wish to be her."

She looked down upon the small child through the falling snow. "Have you ever thought of which animal _you_ would like to be?" Belle waited hopefully but the girl just shook her head and remained silent.

"Well, shall I guess for you? Let me think. You are small and brave. You are pretty and…blonde." The child giggled at the smile in Belle's voice. "I think perhaps you are a golden fox, little one. Small but strong. Beautiful but fierce. I have a feeling you are very clever too. What do you think?" She waited but did not expect an answer. Belle's head jerked slightly when the child spoke.

"Yes. I _am_ fierce, clever, and strong."

Without intending to, Belle pulled the horse to a stop. She leaned back from the girl and gazed down at her in wonder. It was not just the words that caused her to pause but the child's dark tone. It was almost menacing. Her expression did not seem to belong to the cherubic face, either. Bright eyes stared back at Belle from rounded cheeks. There was something in those eyes that caused prickles to run down her arms and her breath to become shallow. Belle knew in an instant that there was something amiss. She placed a hand to her lungs and whispered quietly. "What is your name, child?"

The little girl smiled angelically. Her strange eyes widened.

"Name? I like the one you have given me. You may call me Mon Ange."

The girl began to creep off of the horse with ease and pull Belle's hand until she slid after her. The earth was wet from the snow and the forest sloshed with movement. The moon was bright and Belle watched as Mon Ange wrapped herself more completely in the white cloak. She glanced up at Belle and grinned, petting it.

"This is lovely. You were kind to share it."

Belle gave a wavering smile but her brows pulled together in confusion. The girl raised on her toes and traced the crease between Belle's eyes with gentle fingers.

"You're worried." She stated rather than asked.

"I am curious," Belle responded automatically. Doubt was starting to trickle into her thoughts. _The situation was so odd. Something was dreadfully wrong._

"Yes. You are always curious, are you not?" Mon Ange tilted her head to the side quizzically and continued. "But you are worried as well. For _another,_ you fear. Not yourself. Do you not know you are a lost child as well?"

Belle frowned at this assertion and shook her head. "No, Mon Ange, it is my father who is lost. I am traveling to find him." She stopped and gave the strange child a piercing look, calculating her next words. "Perhaps he is traveling with your parents and we shall find them together."

To Belle's surprise, the girl let out a sweet laugh and twirled around. The fox lined coat blew out to her sides and billowed at her feet. "Oh, you _are_ clever!"

In the forest, the dark trees began to move with a sudden gust of wind and dead wet leaves fell around them. Belle shivered in the punishing gale and rubbed her hands up and down her arms to create a warm friction. The girl watched her with open fascination.

"You are cold." She remarked, her eyes focusing on Belle's movements intently.

"A little. I will be fine once we reach the town." Belle insisted, hoping the fear in her voice was hidden by the false cheer she placed in the words.

Mon Ange frowned then and shook her head sadly.

"We are not going to the town, Savior. You have another road to travel."

Then the storm began.

 **A.N. All characters belong to The Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! Yes, let's add a creepy child in the woods! Can you figure out who this is, clever readers? If you do I'll loan you my cloak! I wish to thank kdm956 for your review. I'm glad you liked it! To my guest reviewer, sorry last chapter was so dark. I hope I didn't scare you away! As always thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and/ or favoriting! – S.


	10. Chapter 9: Shelter from the Bitter Cold

Chapter 9 : Shelter from the Bitter Cold

The savage wind battered against Belle. It slammed and spun her without mercy. She fell to her knees landing on the slick earth and sharp rocks below. Her fingers splayed out in the mud and she dug down for a better grip. Forcing her head up, she squinted at the figure before her.

The sweet-faced angel stood unmoved by the terrible gales of snow. Her lovely yellow curls swept across her soft cheeks and she frowned down at Belle. The moon shined behind her and her eyes glowed green and gold with an inhuman light.

"You must learn to stand, Savior." Mon Ange sang in her bell-like voice. "Never to kneel, never to yield. Never to tame, always the same."

Belle remained on her knees and moved her arm in front of her eyes to shield them from snow and ice shards. "I don't understand...", she started.

"Stand!" The child ordered, the light in her eyes turning more gold than green.

Belle shook her head. _This wasn't happening_. Then lightning struck and Belle gritted her teeth and began to stand up against the wind. It seemed to grow stronger the more she struggled.

Finally, she found her feet below her. With all the will she could muster, she anchored her legs and braced herself for more of the punishing ice cold gales. Her face stung and burning trails of blood ran from her knees to her ankles.

"Much better!" The girl sang-spoke encouragingly. "Your road will be long, Savior, but you will stand on it"

The small child stepped forward and the storm moved with her. The closer she came to Belle, the harder it was to remain upright, but Belle did not fall again.

Instead, she dug in her heels and pushed her weight down to her bloody feet. Her wet curls whipped around her head and swatted her cheeks and neck with snow.

As she gazed painfully at the child in front of her, her mind began to focus. Something about her was so familiar. She thought back to all her years of study, the hours she spent reading everything she could get her hands on.

Where had Belle come across such a person? _No, not a person_ , she corrected instinctively. Though her mind struggled against it, she knew with certainty that what stood before her wasn't human.

"What am I, Savior?" The child asked curiously, as though she were aware of Belle's private thoughts. The snow began to twirl around her in a spiral.

Belle bit her lip as she struggled against saying the words out loud.

"What am I!" Mon Ange demanded with a childish stomp of a bare foot. Her skin seemed to radiate and Belle felt the earth vibrate at her feet.

"I, I don't know. It's not possible." Belle shook her head, her voice barely audible above the winds.

"Possible? I worry you will find most things are possible, Savior. Even me." The little girl laughed and swept her arms out wide. The snow flew out along sparks of gold. To Belle, it looked like a ring of frozen fire.

"The Vale. The Sword of Maleknock. The War du Mal..." Belle shook her head as the words trailed off. Shaking herself as if out of a trance, Belle stared at the girl in wonder. "The Enchanted."

The girl simply stared at her, tilting her head to the side. She watched as understanding colored Belle's face and witnessed as she put the pieces of her intricate existence together. Then she clapped happily and laughed. "You _are_ clever, Savior, and well chosen."

Mon Ange sighed in approval. She took another step and reached up, placing a palm on Belle's cheek. The winds died instantly, as did the snow. Silence fell upon the forest. It was a peaceful quiet and Belle felt the warmth spread from Mon Ange's fingers onto her skin and throughout her body.

Mon Ange's power was evident in her stunning eyes. She vibrated with incredible energy even while standing still. Though she wore the face of a sweet child there was an agelessness about her. From what Belle had read in books she could be ancient.

The girl folded her hands and smiled sadly. "I will explain."

She pointed to the trees around her. "There are wolves in the forest, Savior, and they hunt without mercy in numbers beyond imagination. They have traveled from land to land and leave nothing behind but bones and blood."

Dread filled Belle's body. _It was too much._ Her world had changed in a matter of moments. Everything she ever learned about in her youth was real. Monsters were real. Heroes were real. Belle ran a hand through her damp hair and tried to keep herself from trembling.

"They follow the dark beast." Mon Ange continued slowly. "You have read the history of my people. Now that is all that we have left of them. He and his horrendous pack have destroyed them all and have grown stronger with their powers." The child looked away and wiped a tiny glistening tear from her eye. "I am alone in the world, Savior. A lost child in a realm of monsters."

 _She looked like a child_ , Belle thought. _So small_. Deceptively _small_. But there was a fragility to the enchantress that made Belle's heart ache and she stepped forward cautiously. "I, I'm sorry."

Mon Ange gazed back at Belle with a small smile tilting her tiny pink lips. She shook her head and took a breath. "There is a castle along this road, hidden in the wood and rock. Do you know of which I speak?"

Belle nodded. "Yes, the Château de Beauchene."

"You must go to this castle, Savior. You must speak with its master and you must help him stop the dark beast."

Belle stared at the enchantress for a moment. "Me? No. I cannot. My father..."

Belle stopped as the cold returned. The chill seeped into her pores and penetrated her bones. It felt almost as though it radiated from within.

"Your father? How many fathers will die? How many mothers and children? What is your father to a world drenched in blood?" The child answered coldly. "You must save them all."

Belle frowned and shook her head. "How? I am a commoner. It isn't possible for me to get an audience with the Prince, much less try to convince him of what you are saying."

The child held up a hand to stop Belle from speaking. "You mustn't worry about the prince. If you want to help your father you must go to the castle. Tell the master I have sent you. Help him. And remember, you are a nightjar, Savior. Sing when the night is darkest. Fly when others flee. Never to kneel, never to yield."

Wordlessly, Belle nodded and ran a hand up her frozen shoulder.

"You have warmed me on our travels, my friend, and I am grateful." Mon Ange spoke gently as she slowly ran a hand down the surface of the white cloak she wore. Belle observed as it blazed with bolts of yellow and blue lightning. She was amazed that it did not burn.

Belle watched in silence as the cloak lifted from the girl's small shoulders and began to change colors.

First, it was red, then black, then every color of the rainbow and shadows. It twisted in the air as if wrung by invisible hands, all the while shivering with bolts of electricity. Its material began to change. It was at once a soft cotton and hard leather. It transitioned from water to ice, from soft petals to hard rock. Then it was gone altogether.

The little enchantress held out a hand and it reappeared, draping itself over her arm. Stepping forward she handed it to Belle with a happy childlike grin. "A gift for a gift."

Belle's brow pinched and she looked at first at the girl, then at the cloak. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand to the cloak. It seemed to give off its own heat. "It's warm," Belle observed quietly.

Mon Ange laughed and the curls bounced around her face. "And so it shall be, no matter where it is worn. Forever warm, among other things."

Belle drew her brows together. "Other things?" she asked.

"You will see in time, Savior. Go now, in peace. Our paths will cross again."

Belle felt the wind whip around her again and then the child was gone. The snow still fell. The winds still howled. In the forest, a tiny creature fluttered its wings. All was as it was and yet Belle was changed forever.

She stood for a moment, frozen in place. A flake fell on her cheek and she lifted chilly fingers to wipe away the dampness. The sound of her horse's hooves beating against the frozen path caused her eyes to flicker and she glanced his way. It still stood waiting patiently by the trees.

Belle twisted her wet hair away from her face and moved to mount. Her body ached as much as her mind and it took a moment before she sat upright in her saddle. The wind blew again and Belle glanced down at the cloak in her hands. For a moment she considered leaving it, then Gaston's face filled her mind. Belle sighed and placed the cloak around her shoulder. Instantly the cold disappeared and was replaced by a comforting warmth that spread across her whole body.

Her frame felt lighter and the horse took off at a dazzling speed. Trees whipped past and she leaned forward as she rode. It would be a long journey and would take the rest of the night but she would reach the Château de Beauchene by morning.

Twilight went quickly and before she knew it the sun was spreading its rays across the sky. The morning was stunning. Pink and purple painted clouds scattered across the horizon and outlined the magnificent castle up ahead.

It wasn't until later that Belle would wonder at her speed. She would marvel at her ability to find the hidden castle. It wasn't until later that she would come to regret ever finding it at all.

 **A.N. All characters belong to Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! I think we have all learned not to talk to strangers. Even cute little blonde ones! Are you excited about what's to come? What do you want to happen when Belle meets Beast? Let me know your thoughts and I promise to save you from any creepy 10 yr olds!

I wanted to let you know that I have recently been added to a community by Shiloh Grace, The Most Gripping Beauty and the Beast Stories. It is full of interesting and artful writing and I am proud to be included in the group. If you are looking for more work like this then please check it out!

As always thank you for reading, reviewing, following and / or favoriting! -S


	11. Chapter 10:There's a girl in the castle

Chapter 10: There's a Girl in the Castle

The Beast was hungry. He paced the empty dining room of the castle, irritably snarling as his stomach grumbled. His body demanded to be fed. It yearned for meat. The need pulsated in each of his swollen muscles, in his very bones. His mind blurred in a red haze as he pressed his snout to a nearby window and fogged it with his hot breath.

He smelled something through the glass.

A musky aroma, so strong it caused his nostrils to flare, skittered across the greensward below. How far away? He sniffed again deeply and judged it at 50 arpents, at least. He could almost taste the sweat moistened hide of the buck. His frenzied mind imagined the tangy blood rushing past his fangs and onto his fur. He licked his gullet with a rough tongue and scraped against the glass with an impatient horn.

A clamoring behind him drew his attention and he turned with a feral snort. A slender man with long yellow hair approached slowly and bowed low over a tray. Walking with deliberately diverted eyes, he set his heavy burden on the long wooden table in the center of the room.

The Beast growled and landed on all fours. He moved his body low to the ground, never taking his eyes off of the man.

"I ordered you to leave it outside, Lumière." The Beast snarled deeply as he stalked forward.

The man fumbled as he opened the tray and removed large, raw slabs of beef. With a heavy grunt, he swung them down, watching with distaste as they landed on the floor with a wet thud.

"For-forgive me, your highness. Mrs. Potts forbade me to leave it outside and she is more fearsome than you or I. N'est-ce pas?" He stepped away from the food and backed hastily to the door. "She will have my-my skin if she finds I fed you on the floor."

"Leave." The Beast demanded sharply.

Lumière scurried and bowed. He gathered his serving tray, loudly clanging it in his rush, and backed out of the room.

As soon as the blonde servant departed, the Beast began to devour his meal in large chunks. The meat was cold and caused his taste buds to revolt but he forced himself to swallow. The Beast tore into the sinew. He licked and crunched the bones until there was nothing left. Then, with his hunger appeased, he sat back on his hindquarters in silence.

Letting his massive head roll forward, he stared down at his paws. He flexed them straight and extended the claws tucked within. The silvery spikes shined in the candlelight and sent menacing shadows onto the walls. They were the talons of a monster, curved like scimitars and just as sharp. They were meant to kill.

Gazing from his deadly appendages, the Beast's attention turned back to the window. Though no longer needing to feed, he still felt the overwhelming desire to hunt. He stood and stared down below, his shocking blue eyes focusing in on the deer. He breathed in and out deeply and squeezed them shut.

 _No._ He denied the demanding need within and growled in frustration.

It had been this way since the transformation. The constant animalistic urges to feed, to maim. He found that no matter how hard he fought, his thoughts would always return to the feral instincts of a monster. He slammed his mighty head into his hand in frustration. _Was there no part of the man left_? Every thought was tainted, every impulse corrupted by darkness.

Things that had once been familiar now seemed foreign. It was unnatural to dress, to eat, or even to speak like a man. The smell of cooked meat repulsed him. The feel of cloth on his fur irritated. Worst of all when he became enraged, the impulse to destroy was almost undeniable. This mutilation of his soul frightened him. The darkness that had plagued him his whole life was unleashed and now threatened to swallow him whole. The fingers of rage stroked his heart endlessly. His mind was corrupted. He could no longer trust his thoughts. The man within was fighting to control a Beast that wanted to devour the world, and he didn't know how long he could hold him back.

With one last glance at the deer below, the Beast turned angrily to the door. His powerful stride pulled up short as the entry unexpectedly swung open and a round woman in a white hat walked in.

"Have you finished your meal, love?" Her voice was gentle and held a note of worry.

The Beast just growled and turned his back.

The woman looked on the table where the tray had been and followed a trail of liquid to the floor.

"Oh dear, you didn't eat off the ground again, did you?" The little lady pulled a rag from the waist of her crisp white apron and knelt to clean the ivory and gold speckled marble. "What would your subjects think? And all these lovely dishes going to waste."

The Beast simply bared his claws. The old woman did not blink. She had raised him since the nursery and could never fear the man, nor beast, he became.

"Put those away, Master." She waved her rag at him with a frown. "I know it is difficult to eat properly with those claws, but you must try. Besides, the Savior will be here soon and you can't go scaring her off by behaving like a savage."

The Beast retracted his claws and shook his head. "She is taking too long, Mrs. Potts." He grumbled. "The urge is becoming too strong."

"I know." The lady tilted her white capped head to the side and gazed at the Beast. Her soft face pulled into a somber expression.

"I don't know if I can hold it back." he confided. "The hunger is..." The Beast backed away from the lady and shook his head as if to clear it. "And the desire to hunt...", he looked back at her and she was shocked by the ferocity in his stare, "consumes my mind."

"You must keep yourself busy, your highness. Have you found anything about the dark beast in that library of yours?" Mrs. Potts questioned, standing upright and straightening her skirt.

The Beast made a frustrated sound deep in his throat. "Nothing of use. Some maps. Might be helpful when the witch finally arrives."

"And you're sure she is strong enough to help?" Mrs. Potts inquired hesitantly.

The Beast glanced over sharply and nodded. "She is the Savior. She must be powerful. More powerful than the Enchanted, if she is to fight the dark beast and break this spell." He began to pace again. The waiting was too much. The blasted creature needed to appear before there wasn't a kingdom to save.

Mrs. Potts watched him patiently. Her eyes were filled with the same sweet fortitude he remembered from his childhood. Instead of providing solace, though, he found himself growing more agitated.

"It will be fine, love." She soothed from across the room.

"Fine?" The Beast sneered. "How can you say that? My entire kingdom is in jeopardy. You are a prisoner here." He moved farther away and stood at the other end of the extensive table.

"She will come." Mrs. Potts insisted. Then she jumped at the crashing sound that followed. The Beast had slammed his enormous paws onto the table and caused the thick wood to splinter beneath him.

"She better!" His voice rang high into the rafters and Mrs. Potts covered her ears with her hands.

After a moment, the silent maid dropped her hands and sighed. "You really must learn to control your temper, Master." She shook her head as she went out the of the thick golden door.

* * *

He was getting more and more difficult to handle. The elderly maid found her heart aching for the man he once was.

Though he had never been warm, there was always a goodness about the prince. Now, she feared he was losing that. She secretly wondered if the Beast had taken over more of his mind than she had initially believed.

Mrs. Potts had reached the end of the armor lined hallway when the frustrated voice of Lumière reached her.

"I know a girl when I see one!" He shouted in his unmistakable voice.

"Yes, I _know_!" Cogsworth voice dripped with sarcasm. "We _all_ know."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Lumière answered defensively.

Mrs. Potts heard Cogsworth's grunting laugh. "Figure it out, you low level Lothario!"

"Why, you corpulent..."

Mrs. Potts rounded the corner and came face to face with the squabbling duo. Lumière, tall and lanky, stood towering over the pudgy, red-faced butler. They seemed dangerously close to coming to blows. Again. Mrs. Potts sighed and stopped in front of them. Her hands rested firmly on her thick waist.

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Causing such a fuss while the Master is within earshot!" She admonished in a hushed voice.

The blonde manservant turned pale and bowed coolly. "Mrs. Potts, I have spectacular news!"

"Oh please, save us your fevered dreams of beautiful girls traipsing through the gardens. She was probably a _maid_." Cogsworth insisted derisively, waving his hand away in dismissal.

The slender man appeared genuinely affronted. "You think there is a maid I have not met personally? You don't know me at all, old friend!"

"I am not your 'old friend', you egotistical…" Cogsworth began, bouncing up and down in rage.

Before he could continue, Mrs. Potts intervened. Turning to the blonde man she asked, "What is this all about, monsieur?"

Lumière smiled charmingly and continued his initial story. "I have spectacular news. There is a girl in the castle!"

Mrs. Potts inhaled loudly and clapped her hands. _Could it be true_? "Where? We must bring her to the Master at once!"

Satisfied that he finally received the reaction he desired, Lumière's smile widened. "Yes, Mrs. Potts! I saw her out the window of the south parlor after I left his highness his meal. But how shall we bring her to him? I fear with this spell it will only frighten the girl if I were to talk to her."

The old woman shook her head, "Witches have seen many enchantments. This one is not so terrifying."

"So you say," the handsome manservant turned away dramatically, "but I have not seen my reflection in all these long days. That terrifies _me_!"

"Yes, well I have seen you," answered Cogsworth, bitterly, "and that is no joy either!"

The butler turned to Mrs. Potts with a serious expression. "The windbag does have a point, though. If the girl is not the witch, and she becomes aware of our enchantment, I worry what the master will do."

Mrs. Potts nodded, deep in thought. "Where is the girl now?"

Lumière shook his head in pity. "The stables. She appears to have ridden through the night." A small smile formed on the side of his mouth and wicked eyebrow shot up, "I'm sure she will want a warm bed…"

Mrs. Potts stared at him hard and pursed her peach lips. "I think you have helped quite enough, Mssr. Lumière. Cogsworth will bring the girl inside to the Master, thank you."

The man looked like a disappointed child who had lost his favorite toy.

"But I…" He started just to be ignored. The white-capped woman had turned away. Lumière huffed and flipped on his heels, stomping down the halls.

"At last!" Cogsworth breathed thankfully, though his smile disappeared with a stern look from the old woman.

"You must go quickly, now. Be careful. Have her follow you at a distance. She does not need to know of the curse unless the master decides to enlighten her." Mrs. Potts gave the warning.

"As you say." The stout man nodded deeply, not quite making it a bow.

Mrs. Potts watched Cogsworth waddle away and breathed a sigh of relief. _The girl had come at last. Soon she would defeat the dark beast and they would all be free of the Enchantress's spell._

She could not wait to visit the village of her family again. She had been tempted to travel there against the Master's orders, but could not force herself to make the journey. _What would she do, confronted by her loved ones but not able to make herself known? To see but not be seen,_ she had wondered, tearfully _._ The spell that kept them safe also kept them secret. They were invisible to the eyes of everyone, save those affected by the curse.

Mrs. Potts wiped a dismissive finger under her eye. It was a burden to be cheerful for the others. She was careful to never let her fear or sadness show. It was not an easy task.

With a heavy heart, she turned to her chores. There was much to be done. There was laundry to press, rooms to refresh, tea to brew. It had been many years, long before the spell, since they had a girl visit the castle. Mrs. Potts thrilled at the thought of using her skills.

Now, if only the Master would control himself, she thought, deflated, as another crash in the dining room echoed down the hall. _Poor girl! Who will save the Savior from the Beast?_

 **A.N. All characters belong to The Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers. Meet our Beast. He's big. He's hungry. He's in for a huge surprise. What are your thoughts on our hairy hero? Let me know, or any other thoughts you might have, and there might be a huge slab of beef waiting for you!

Thanks so much for the feedback! I would like to especially thank some new reviewers, meandmynotebook, Isabelle Sumner, and Mistress 0f Dragons. You all have helped me more than you know. Mistress 0f Dragons, I loved reading your thoughts as you read my story. Very interesting!

Isabelle Sumner has some beautiful work on her page that some of you might have read. I am currently reading A Tale of Angola when I'm not writing and it is a work of art. If you feel like reading a historically accurate and remarkable take on Beauty and the Beast, you should give it a shot! Thank you all again for reading, reviewing, following and/ or favoriting! -S


	12. Chapter 11: A Stranger Here

Chapter 11: A Stranger Here

Morning was breaking upon the branches of the greensward. Sunlight flickered through the leaves and glimmered across the fresh dewy earth. Belle broke into a clammy sweat beneath her cloak and slipped it off. She wandered the path from the stable to the enormous stone castle, walking just a little bit slower than necessary.

Every man, woman, and child knew the dark legends of the Château de Beauchene. To most, they were as familiar as the tales of the enchanted and were recited at bedtime to sleepy toddlers.

As a child, Belle would lay by the fire and quiver with delicious fright as she read the horrors of the great castle in the woods. The endless accounts of evil wizards and misbehaving royals awakened her raw curiosity and she devoured every narrative she could lay her hands upon.

Looking at the castle up close was almost a frightening as reading about it. Each dark corner held the possibility of danger. The black stones soared above her like dungeon walls. At the peak of the towers, gargoyles stood guard. Belle pulled in her lip and looked away from their looming presence. Only when she reached the stone steps did she turn back. No stable boy had asked after her identity and no guards stopped her progress. _Odd_. Her stomach twisted as she reached for the lion's head knocker and banged it down, twice.

After a moment the door crept open. Belle found herself staring into the somber hall of the Château de Beauchene. She stood on the threshold and gazed inside. There was only darkness.

The door had opened unaided.

There was no servant to guide her. The warmth of the empty space felt oddly stuffy after the fresh and open air of the forest. The black entry looked ominous and the heat from the doorway was stifling. Belle was forced to take a calming breath before she stepped forward to place a single damp boot inside.

"Hello?" Belle called. The sound of her voice echoed back to her.

After a few shuffling steps inside, she heard as the door closed heavily behind her. She turned to stare at it. Her eyes widened. There was no one there.

Belle glanced back into the large room and called out again in the dimly lit space. "Hello, is anyone here? I'm looking for the master of this castle."

Still, there was only silence. Belle took a shaky breath and laughed nervously, "Well this isn't odd at all. _Perfectly_ normal."

Then a light flickered down the warm marble hall, followed by the sound of footsteps rushing swiftly away. Belle startled, her heart leaping at no longer being alone in the creepy castle. She hurried to the glowing corner of the passage.

Just as it seemed she was getting closer to the light, it began to move farther away. Belle paused in her steps and tilted her head.

"Peculiar," Belle whispered to herself. The light stopped as well.

"Um, my father was lost in the woods. I wonder if he might have come this way?" She called out. "I need to see the..." Belle silenced as the light continued on. She waited a moment then followed after it.

The soft glow led her down many marbled twists and turns. Before long, she was completely lost within the dark and decadent beauty of the Château de Beauchene.

The empty halls echoed her steps. Belle felt heat wave along her skin and she ran her fingers across her damp brow. Her breath was slow and shallow in the silence. Her progress was impaired by the darkness. Every now and then she paused and looked about her at the fascinating objects that lined the gilded halls. Heavy pieces of armor leaned along the walls and portraits of disapproving royals stared down at the peasant girl as she walked the sacred marble floors. Her eyes focused on a face hanging in the shadows. It was very stern and handsome. The prince, Belle knew instantly.

That was when she heard the distinct sound of someone clearing his throat. Belle's gaze swung over in surprise. A door along the hall had been left open and a light was shining from within. Belle felt her heart race.

She moved forward. She could see inside. It was an enormous dining room. Belle estimated it could contain several hundred people within its walls. She looked down at herself nervously and wished she could find some time to repair some of the damage the forest had wreaked upon her person. She regretted leaving her bag in the stables, too. At the time it did not seem polite to bring her belongings into the castle. Now, she would give anything for a brush and ribbon.

Belle turned her eyes around the space and gasped. The room had been ransacked. The beautiful wooden table was splintered and many plates and glasses were smashed on the hard marble floor.

"Oh, dear." Belle breathed out softly and took a step back to the door. Her boots crunched on the glass beneath her feet.

A feral growl rumbled behind her.

Adrenaline shot to Belle's fingers and she felt a jolt of fear at the base of her stomach. Slowly turning around, Belle came face to face with a snarling monster. It hovered above her, breathing deeply in long, angry pants. Belle's eyes dilated and misted over. It's face obscured until all she saw were horns, fangs, and claws.

Belle shrunk away and fell on her backside against the crushed tabletop. She barely felt it as splinters stabbed into her tender palms.

The creature roared and bared his vicious fangs. She could feel its hot breath blow back her hair with every angry puff.

Then it spoke, or bellowed at a terrifying volume, "You shouldn't be here!"

Belle froze. Its voice was rough, animalistic, but _human_.

"I'm sorry. I'll go!" Belle gulped, barely breathing. _It was the dark beast the child had spoke of._ She was too late. Belle jumped at the sound of slamming chairs hitting the ground. As she scrambled farther away, the animal drew closer. He destroyed everything in his path; wood, glass, silver, and porcelain until nothing remained between the girl and the beast.

The creature reared up to its full mammoth height and towered over the trembling woman. "Come to stare at the beast, have you?" The Beast asked in manic anger.

Belle shook her head and pushed her back against the wall, putting as much distance as she could between them.

"No!" She spoke weakly, turning her face and shutting her eyes against his monstrous rage.

"I'll give you something to stare at." He promised, and within a breath, Belle was lifted off the ground and thrown into the air. Her stomach landed hard against his rock-like shoulder and she let out a painful "Oomph!" before the world went black.

Somewhere in the darkness of her mind, she thought she heard a woman's voice, followed by a terrifying rumble from the beast. Then all sound was lost as Belle fell deeper into the speckled black shadows behind her eyes. Finally, she gave into the sleep she had been denied the night before, not even feeling her body fall to the cold stone or hearing the slamming of the rusted metal cell around her.

 **A.N. All rights belong to the Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! So maybe not love at first sight! I wanted to thank you all for writing in your questions and reviews. You are all better than an invisible butler! Here's your question. Would you be able to forgive a meeting like that? I think it would take a pretty big person. Let me know your thoughts or any about this chapter, and you might win an awesome broken table! I can't believe how helpful and encouraging you all are. Thank you so much! I want to thank ILoveYouDearly for leaving such an amazing review, it was so encouraging and made me want to get back to writing faster! As always, I appreciate all of you who take the time to read, review, follow and/ or favorite! - S


	13. Chapter 12:He's Got Her Locked in a

Chapter 12: He's Got Her Locked in a Dungeon

"But, you can't just leave her in the dungeon, Master!" The old woman cried. The Beast felt his anger rise at the mention of the false savior.

"Do you presume to give me orders?" He demanded, watching as she drew back from his words and posture. A tinge of regret followed but he would not give in to it. Mrs. Potts would not sway him on the matter and he was weary of the discussion.

"No, your highness. Of course not!" she assured him, and he felt instant relief in his aching muscles. Then she continued. "But she is just a girl. It's not her fault you were expecting someone else when she wandered in. And she says she is looking for her father."

The Beast shook his mighty head and rubbed his shoulder. It was the same one the girl had landed on. He felt his skin heat under his fur.

"She shouldn't have been here. How did she even find the castle?" He turned to his servant and ran a hand over his head. "Is the spell already breaking?"

Mrs. Potts stared at him and shook her head. "I don't think so, Master. She didn't see Cogsworth as she followed his candle. Maybe she stumbled upon the castle."

"Or perhaps she is in line with the dark beast. A perfect ruse, don't you agree? A beautiful, injured girl looking for her father? Anyone would allow such a creature inside." The Beast paused to recall her face then shook his massive mane. "She stays in the dungeon. Am I making myself clear?" He announced to the woman and watched as she turned away, silently seething.

When Mrs. Potts walked to the door she stopped and stooped to pick something up from the floor. It was white and even from a distance, he could smell the sweet scent of the girl clinging to it. The Beast growled low and averted his gaze.

"Surely you wouldn't have her freeze in there?" Mrs. Potts asked as she shook out the beautiful ivory fabric. She folded it delicately and tucked it under an arm. Without another glance at her ruler, she left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

The Beast rumbled deeply. It took everything in him to hold himself back from plunging down into the darkness of the dungeons again. He thought of the girl and snarled.

He remembered her stunned expression when she finally detected him. Just the memory caused his teeth to flash.

He had watched her from the dark hallway with eyes that saw even better in the shadows. She didn't notice him as she stumbled, unsure, following after Cogsworths flickering candle.

At first, he had been shocked by her appearance. She was incredibly small, with a torn, bloody gown and soggy boots. Her long hair lay draped over one shoulder and cascaded down her front in chaotic ringlets.

The creature frowned as he watched her draw nearer. There was a misty sheen on her skin and her body shook. She was pale, as well. _Too pale. Weak_.

A realization swept over him then. _The girl had no power_.

Anger and disappointment rocked the Beast back onto his hindquarters and he felt the monster come to the surface. His eyes darkened as he searched for the reasoning behind her appearance at his castle. The girl was too frail to have made it to his home by herself. _Who sent her? Why?_ The questions blared in his mind as he stalked forward. He never took his icy eyes off of the girl's perfect heart-shaped face.

He had heard her say she was searching for her father. He gnashed his teeth silently. A likely story.

She appeared to be incredibly interested in her surroundings, in particular, the art his family had collected through the ages. His eyes squinted as he watched her examine his portrait.

She had fallen behind his butler and noticing this, hurried to catch up. His servant had opened the door to his dining hall and cleared his throat. The Beast saw her expression startle and then witnessed a determined spark come into her eyes. The Beast paused at this and frowned suspiciously.

She surveyed the room and hesitated by the broken table and whispered "Oh dear," in a tiny breathless voice.

The Beast ignored the evidence of his temper all around them, yet he felt it increase as he watched the expression on her face.

Standing as tall as the trees beyond the hills, he slammed the door shut behind her and growled. His body blocked any possible escape and the girl swung around and stared at him with huge hazel eyes.

Her voice trembled as she spoke but the monster barely heard her words. His eyes became hooded and he no longer saw the girl in front of him. She was only a pretender attempting to deceive him. She backed away in fear, whether from his appearance or his words, and he found himself looming over her petite frame.

Then she was in his arms and flung over his shoulder. He rubbed it again with the memory.

The Beast turned from the room and the memories and headed for the west wing of the castle. When he was eleven years of age he had taken those rooms as his own. Against the wishes of his guardian, he had gutted the space and removed all belongings of its former occupants. The only thing he allowed to remain was a single table with a vase holding a dead rose.

He stomped across his room heading for the open air of the balcony. He needed the numbing breeze. He needed the clarity it would bring. The biting cold sobered him from the anger that was trying desperately to swallow him whole.

Leaning against the iron railing, the Beast gazed across the woods and hills.

To the East and West, his people were just waking up for another day of work, or study, or play. His subjects, blissfully unaware of the dangers that stalked them, went about their daily lives. They didn't know of the great evil that threatened to end them all. They didn't know that all that stood in its way was a monster struggling against a darkness of his own.

And a savior, he thought belatedly. He felt himself call out to her. Wherever she might be.

"Come," he demanded silently. "Before it is too late."

 **A.N. All characters owned by Disney**

Hello, all! Ah, we just took a walk on the wild side and got the Beast's pov. Did that clear some things up? Any questions or thoughts? Share them now and you might get flung over a muscular shoulder!

As many of you know, I am new to FF and have recently come to realize what an amazing and supportive community we have. You are all a blessing! I have been made to feel welcome by you, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for your help, both in the incredibly constructive reviews and through the private messages of my many new and creative friends. Thank you, guest reviewers for your encouragement. I want to thank a new reviewer, PastOneonta. Your reviews were insightful and interesting to read. I'm so glad you took the time to write to me! I want to thank you, silent readers, as well. I really appreciate you giving my little story a shot. I hope you will come back for more! As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting. -S

* Hi, readers! I just wanted to let you know I just uploaded a new story based on the classic movie Labyrinth. I'm extremely excited! I hope you guys will give it a glance and tell me what you think. I value any input greatly!- S.


	14. Chapter 13: His Monstrous Appetite

Chapter 13 : His Monstrous Appetite

Man wandered the forest at night.

 _Vanity. Pride_.

It knew the forest belonged to the beasts and yet he heard it fumble through the leaves clumsily. It tripped as it moved. Slowing down and then speeding back up. Perhaps it sensed his presence in the shadows.

The dark creature puffed out his breath in a deep rumble and allowed his silent paws to crack a dead branch that had fallen with the snow. He paused and heard the stupid man speed up. His nostrils picked up the spike of fear that shot through the trees and he growled in approval.

It was moving quickly, for a sack of man-meat, though it made little progress. The thickets were too dense to get through without claws or teeth. It was useless. Meal for the taking. The dark beast kept his pace leisurely, easily finding the man within the black woods.

He could attack at any moment. It would never see him. In an instant, its life would be over, in a red flash of talons and fangs. The dark beast thrilled at the thought. The kill was so sweet when it was a surprise.

For a moment he was tempted. The man-meat would be warm from its exercise and taste faintly of salt upon his tongue. His eyes rolled back as he imagined the heady flavor, then he snarled and slowed his movements. No. His pack was hungry.

He needed more. He needed much more.

He waited. Watching it move in what seemed like slow motion, the dark beast denied his instincts. Finally, it seemed to have found its path.

 _Tedious, insipid_.

Then it edged to the outskirts of the trees and fumbled into an open clearing.

The dark beast could sense its relief and he smiled cruelly.

With a low howl, he alerted his pack. After some time, from just within the darkness of the forest, legions of black and red eyes began to glint in the moonlight. The dark beast motioned for them to pause and remain silent as they watched the meat-meal tumble closer to the hidden dwellings. It was a small pack of man but hunting in the forest had been successful that day and the wolves would make do.

He heard the sound of voices and edged closer. The men were coming out of their straw and clay caves, _houses_ , the dark beast mentally corrected. They crowed around the salty man-meat and spoke in hushed whispers. Then, as one, they turned their eyes to the trees.

The creature felt their gaze and waited another second to enjoy their confusion. Then, with a grunt to his pack, he stepped a padded paw out into the open.

It took a moment for the deficient humans to detect him in the dim light. They blinked as his eyes became visible first, viciously reflecting the moonlight with an evil glare. He grinned in the night, flashing his fangs and sweeping to stand at his full monstrous height. There were gasps that sounded out and a few exclamations but the men seemed at a loss as they looked at something they couldn't possibly explain.

The dark beast moved in closer, barely holding back his excitement. Then, when the night went silent, and the men seemed caught in their own idiotic shock, the creature threw back his colossal head and let loose a terrifying roar.

The sound shook the ground. Water and leaves fell from the trees as it spread across the clearing, into the woods. It vibrated off the houses and the noise of shattered glass could be heard behind the men who had yet to move. Then the howls of hundreds of wolves split the night and awakened them from their trance. The men began to run. They tripped over each other, pushing to reach their homes.

The dark beast stepped forward slowly, enjoying the scene. Then, he turned his head and motioned for the pack to follow. They came out from the forest in a nightmarish row of hungry eyes and fangs. They were excited too. The dark beast felt the energy that radiated off of their long muscular bodies and roared again, giving his approval.

Then they attacked.

The clearing erupted in beautiful chaos as the wolves rushed forward, fur flying in the darkness and engulfing the houses. They slammed against the homes, clawing at the doors and beating against the walls. Some found easy access through broken glass, while others were even more fortunate and found man meat outside their dwellings.

The wolves feasted upon the men with unrestrained vigor. Those that put up a fight soon found themselves outnumbered and the sounds of gunshots quickly gave way to howls and screams.

The dark beast moved inward slowly. He didn't waste his time on the easy kills around him. While the wolves fought over carcasses, the creature kept his eyes on the back of the clearing. He wanted the brainless man-meat that allowed this to happen. He followed his scent. Salt and fear. It was moving away, edging to the trees again. The beast growled at its insolence. It's guile.

He leaned forward and landed on all fours. With a manic push, he leaped from the ground and pushed past the wolves and carnage around him. The blood on the earth soaked into his claws and stuck to his fur as he ran. It was only a matter of seconds. Then he was in front of it. Upon it. Over it. The useless thing looked up at him with eyes blurred with tears and the dark beast felt revulsion rise in his throat. It had caused this. With its hubris and stupidity. Thinking it could wander in his domain.

He watched with disgust as it covered its face and twisted away, clawing at the wet dirt. He pushed his face close to it and growled low, forcing it to stare into his eyes. The man stopped moving, lost in the empty, accusing eyes of the monster. Then, the dark beast clamped his teeth around its collar and yanked it back to the massacre in the clearing. He shook it roughly and made it watch.

It began to weep, taking on the enormity of what it had done. It was delicious.

The dark beast watched on with glee. Then, before the man could feel the sweet release of shock, he towered over him and leaned in with maddening deliberation. Edging close slower and slower, until his fangs dripped just inches away from his prey's face.

It didn't beg. It was too broken. But it did weep. The beast licked a tongue down its face and tasted its sorrow and guilt, marveling it the sweetness. Then, he bared his teeth further and bit. The man struggled for a moment and then went still underneath him as he finished his meal.

 **A.N. All characters belong to Walt Disney**

Hello readers! Did you make it out of that alive? I hope so, I'd hate to lose you! Was that too dark? Let me know your thoughts, don't be scared!

I wanted to say thank you to those of you who have reviewed, especially jaxtina, Aleah, and Lylabeth. Also my awesome guest reviewers! You guys make writing so much more enjoyable! I hope you all have the same joy in your own writing! In fact, I would love to know what you are writing as well. If you have something you want to share, please feel free to let me know in the review section or through private message. As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and/or favoriting!


	15. Chapter 14: Anything, But a Monster

Chapter 14: Anything, But a Monster

The Beast stood at the top of the stairway that led deep into the bowels of the castle.

He had been up half the night, pacing endlessly. Nothing could calm the black fire inside of him. Soon he found himself slamming down the steps leading away from the west wing.

His mind was disjointed. He waited on the shadowed landing and attempted to calm the roaring thoughts within. They twisted together in a jumble of doubt and anger. Finally, the desire for answers won out over the abhorrence he felt at seeing the girl again.

After a moment, he growled low and descended into the tight space. His tall frame brushed the ceiling and he crouched down on all fours to avoid scraping his horns on the stones above.

The air was thick with moisture. Dampness seeped from the dirty ground and soaked his paws and breeches. He felt and dismissed the unfamiliar fingers of guilt spreading across his core. The girl had been in the cell for hours.

The Beast moved further into the room. Two guards stood on either side of the bars which encased her.

"Leave us," He thunder. His voice echoed off the walls and the two men scurried up the stairs.

The Beast could see her clearly. She would not be able to see him, even if she was conscious, which she was not.

Someone had draped a cloak over the girl's small body. Other than that, she looked the same as when he left her. She had not moved since he laid her in the tiny metal room. For an instant, the Beast felt a jolt to his chest.

 _Had he killed her?_ He moved closer, careless of the lock, and knocked the door open with a powerful push.

Standing over her still body, the Beast experienced a deep wave of human regret. He knelt low and brushed the matted curls from the girl's face. She was even smaller than he remembered. The Beast took her head roughly in his paws. Her skin was cold as he touched her cheek.

"Wake up, girl." He ordered. The words rumbled from deep within his chest. She did not obey.

He couldn't tell if she was breathing. He placed his ear to her lips and listened to hear her inhale. When she did not, he scooped her up across his lap and began to rub her arms up and down. The warming friction spread up her skin and turned it pink.

Encouraged, the Beast placed a heavy paw on her chest. _Did her heart beat?_ He slowed his own breathing and focused on the movement against his palm. It was faint, like a tiny creature in his hand, but it thumped against him. He gave a shaky sigh.

The Beast leaned his substantial weight against the wall behind him and pulled the girl tighter against his chest. The female in his arms was still. She had yet to move or make a sound, but she was alive. He had not taken that from her. The Beast was not yet a true monster.

Slowly, to his shock, her eyelids began to flicker and lift. Her gaze appeared dazed for a moment as she tried to focus. Then she turned her eyes full force on the astonished beast. He didn't move. He just looked down at her in wonder. Then she smiled and spoke.

"There are ghosts in the castle." The girl whispered conspiratorially, peering deeply into his startled eyes. "All castles have ghosts." She ended weakly, then her lashes gave a small flutter and closed again. She was reclaimed by the darkness.

The Beast remained still, struck by her words. Images of himself as a small boy searching darkened halls and empty rooms filled his mind. He eyed the girl in his grasp and shook his head in confusion.

"She'll need a room, Master." A voice said from outside the bars. The Beast looked up and took in the sight of Mrs. Potts. Her cap and apron were a stark white contrast to the dingy shadows of the dungeon. He nodded and answered vaguely.

"Yes."

"And a good meal." She persisted, hands on her hips.

"At once." The Beast responded, his voice was foggy and he turned his bewildered eyes back to the girl that still lay across his lap.

"Master?" Mrs. Potts waited for him to look up. "Can you bring her now? I've got a room prepared."

The Beast furrowed his brow and she answered his unasked question. "I knew you'd come around in the end." The old woman gave him a tender smile and for an instant, the creature was silent inside the Beast's mind. He smiled at the woman who raised him and knew him better than he knew himself.

"Thank you, Mrs. Potts." He whispered low.

"And, I was on my way to get you if you didn't," she responded with a smile and a curt nod of her head.

The Beast chuckled softly and stood, holding the girl to his chest. He could hear her breathe now and felt it ruffle the fur on his neck. He swallowed and strode out of the cell. When he turned back, he noticed that Mrs. Potts did not follow. He raised a brow at her in question.

"Oh, I'll be along. Take her to the East wing. I made up the Robin Room for her. It will be peaceful as she recovers. I'm just going to retrieve her cloak. She'll be wanting that, I think."

The Beast nodded and took huge steps up the stairs and across the foyer. With his enormous stride, he reached the east wing in a matter of minutes.

The room was bright, even in the middle of the night, with a fire crackling in the corner and lamps burning by the bed. The flames danced on the walls and caused the little birds on the paper to flutter their wings. The bed was laid with full pillows and a soft, thick duvet. The Beast re-positioned the girl in his arms and pulled back the covers. He placed her on the bed and stared down at her in the light.

Her hands were scratched and muddy. Her gown was stained by dirt and splotches probably caused by snow. There was blood below her knees. The Beast pulled the blanket over her and rubbed his face, scrubbing at the guilt that lay behind his eyes.

He turned as Mrs. Potts glided through the door. She noted his expression and laid the white cloak at the foot of the girl's bed. Then she turned to take the Beast's paw.

"She'll be fine, Master. No use feeling ill about it now. I'll get her cleaned up and fed in no time, you'll see." She pulled him by the forearm and led him to the door. "Now you get some rest. Tomorrow's another day. Who knows, maybe the Savior will turn up then."

The Beast allowed Mrs. Potts to show him out with just one look over his bulky shoulder at the girl.

It wasn't until he was back in his rooms that he processed the old woman's words. The Savior might come tomorrow. He had gone a full hour without thinking of the curse. His mind began to race again. The Savior, the dark beast, the curse, the kingdom. Round and around it went and he found himself pacing into the dark hours of the night.

 **A.N. All rights reserved for the Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! Here's an early installment of Belle and the Beasts. I hope you enjoy! I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed, especially my new reviewer livia101. I'm so glad you liked this and hurried it along just for you! So, what are your thoughts on the new developments with our Beast? Let me know and I promise to let you out of your cell!

I would also like to thank those of you who traveled over to my new story, Of Goblins and Kings. You are amazing! Your support means the world to me.

As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! - S.


	16. Chapter 15: There's Something Truly

Chapter 15: There's Something Truly Terrible Inside

Gaston was tempted to shoot him in the rear. He had a good shot too. The plump target was only a few arpents away and his red trousers begged for an arrow as he bent to examine an empty rabbit trap. Gaston cared for the small man like a brother but if he mentioned a certain long-haired, mule-headed female again, he was going to be skewered. Damn the consequences!

Lefou, completely oblivious to how close he was to being the giant man's next prey, smiled over a shoulder. "Guess Belle's not the only one that got away!"

He let out a heavy chortle that turned into a squeak as he flung himself to the right, barely missing Gaston's arrow. He looked over in disbelief as the projectile weapon quivered in its resting place in the stump of a tree, where his body had been seconds before. "Bad show, shootin' a fellow in the back!"

"I wasn't aiming for your back," Gaston responded darkly, replacing his longbow over his shoulder. The smaller man's eyes screwed up and he began to subconsciously rub his backside.

"Not much better." He mumbled.

Gaston strode forward and yanked his arrow from the tree bark and thrust it under the nose of his friend. "Next time I won't miss. Don't speak of Belle again."

Lefou nodded silently but his eyes spoke volumes. Gaston growled at his expression. He pushed his friend back onto the cold dirt and turned away.

They had been out for a long time. The hunt had been lush. Through Gaston's persistence, they would have many furs to sell when they went to the tiny village in the woods. They had much more than usual and it wasn't too hard to see why. Gaston needed to be active. He needed to hunt something and have the reward of getting what he sought. He needed to _win_. As a result, they had a small fortune in skins tucked into Lefou's wagon.

"Come on, we won't get anything off of your pathetic traps." Gaston moved to his horse and swung up powerfully. He didn't wait to watch Lefou fumble into his wagon and follow behind with the wares. He needed some space. "I'll meet you at St. Cassia. Don't get lost." With that, he motioned for the horse to move and commanded it around the tree-laden terrain.

The cold wind stung his cheeks and pulled at his hair but he rejoiced in it. It was something to feel other than the numbing pain in his chest. He took a large, meaty hand and pressed it to the hollow part beneath his breast. _Belle._ He shook his head and pushed forward. _Damn it all_.

The strong gusts were picking up. Gaston pushed back a thick black strand that had escaped his hair tie. Eventually, the thing was useless and he simply let his mane stream loosely behind him as he moved faster through the woods.

The village was close. Gaston slowed his pace, enjoying the solitude only the woods could bring.

 _I should have come alone_ , he thought for the hundredth time. He had planned on it, packing at dawn and riding silently to the edge of town. But Lefou had known, somehow, and met him with a wagon full of supplies and a somber look.

"So, how'd it go?" Lefou had asked and at the time Gaston had been almost relieved to have his friend join him. Since then, his thoughts on the matter had changed.

Lefou was not a subtle man. It was one of the things Gaston enjoyed most about him. In this instance, however, he was less funny and more suicidal.

He was relentless in his pursuit of answers about Belle and would not be side-tracked. Eventually, Gaston had related the whole affair, to the immense pleasure of his friend. Then he never heard the end of it. A bird flying away was somehow similar to Belle. A mouse burrowing into a hole in the ground to escape a hawk was liked to Belle. A sapling being crushed by an oak, a fox caught in a trap, a timid doe…it never ended.

 _The man was lucky he had only been shot at once!_

Gaston didn't need the reminders. Belle was always on his mind, without any assistance from Lefou. He couldn't help it. Her rejection seemed to merely intensify his feelings for her. Or maybe it was also the way she had felt in his arms. He knew the first time he kissed her he would never want another woman. By the second time, she had destroyed all he thought intimacy could be and replaced it with a burning, consuming need. He was hers, whether she wanted him or not. And it infuriated him.

Grinding his teeth, the enormous man rode on deliberately, clearing his thoughts and focusing on his surroundings. If he had not been distracted he would have noticed it sooner. The silence.

Gaston lifted his head and squinted his eyes as he searched the trees for life. There was nothing to see. The only movement in the forest was the shaking of leaves by the gusts of icy wind. He sniffed the air. Something was wrong.

He moved forward slowly, pushing past broken limbs that surrounded the edge of the trees. The town should be just beyond. Instinct spiked in his stomach and he pulled out his bow before moving forward and lined it with an arrow. Then, with practiced patience, he peaked through the leaves to the open clearing of St. Cassia's small square. The sight before him caused him to pull back in shock.

Never had he seen such carnage. Gaston felt his skin pale as he looked out at the nightmare laid before him. Even from his distance, he smelled the decay. Gaston swiped a hand across his mouth in disgust. He gazed around and waited for movement. After long minutes passed, he moved in. His horse pulled back, snorting and waving his head. "Now, Barron." His master ordered, and the stallion obeyed.

The first thing Gaston noticed was the lack of bodies. The ground was soaked in blood and innards. It clumped into the dirt like a rust-colored blanket. Barron whinnied and sidestepped to avoid the defiled earth. Sighing, Gaston slide from his horse and tied him to a broken post. His boots sloshed in the grass. He didn't notice. His eyes were busy elsewhere.

Looking about himself, Gaston moved forward. He needed to search for survivors. The houses were demolished. Most lay in a rubble of wood and straw, with very few still resembling homes.

 _What could do this?_ Gaston thought in astonishment.

Broken glass crunched under his feet as he circled around one of the remaining buildings and looked inside. His heart stopped as he recognized the dwelling. It was the home of a fellow hunter, a friend.

Gaston had eaten at the table that lay ground into the floor. He had laughed by the crumbling hearth that would never smoke again. His eyes drifted over to something else and he turned his face away in pain. A broken cradle.

He forced himself to step inside slowly. Dread echoed in his footfalls and he reached out a hesitant hand. Then a scream reached his ears followed by a loud curse. Gaston swung around to stare into the hysterical eyes of Lefou.

"What, what?" The plump man repeated numbly, unable to think. "Gaston?" He finally finished, searching his friend's face for answers.

Gaston gripped his shoulders and shook him. "Keep your voice down! Help me look for survivors." He turned away quickly and swung the cradle to face him. It was empty of any child, but Gaston shook his head as his gaze drifted to the bloody blanket that lay inside.

"Come on." He ordered in a choked voice as he pulled his friend from the house that had begun to feel like a tomb.

He stepped out into the open and the smell struck him again. _Death. So much death._ Lefou stumbled behind him and moved to the side of the house, retching violently. Gaston strode away. He searched the remainder of the houses but again found only blood and fluids. There was no life left in the small village.

Lefou wandered over, wiping his mouth with a dirty sleeve and pressing his fingers to his nose. "What happened here?" He asked, in a quiet voice that shook slightly.

Gaston didn't answer. He simply knelt in the grass and stared at the dirt. For a moment Lefou thought he was praying and bowed his head as well. Then his massive friend lifted his head and he saw a flash of something in his eyes that he knew wasn't holy. "What?" Lefou asked.

"Wolves," Gaston answered sharply and swung up to his feet.

He moved around the grounds quickly, stopping to touch the marks in the dirt every now and then. Then he was running, swift as a stag, his bow by his side. Occasionally, as he was making his way around the perimeter of the massacre, he would bend to pick up something and examine it with expert eyes. Then he was off again.

Finally, he stopped. He had picked up a trail. He followed it slowly, crouching down low to get a better view. It led him to the edge of the grass and into the trees. Lefou followed him as best he could. He came up behind, breathless.

There, in the leaves and debris, laying in a dried puddle of blood, was a _hand_. Lefou gripped his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, mentally forcing himself not to vomit. He felt his friend bend down in front of him and pried open one eye. "What do you see?"

Gaston spoke low. His friend had to strain to hear him. "Jaquan."

Then Gaston grabbed Lefou's arm and ran him to the horses. He began to unhitch the wagon and let it down with a heavy thump. Lefou watched on in disbelief and shook his head. "What are ya doin'? You can't mean to leave our furs."

"I do. Get on your horse." Gaston answered, reaching for a supplies bag from the back of the wagon and flinging it over his saddle.

"But, but the money. All our hard work." The plump man insisted, dully.

"It doesn't matter. We have to get back."

Lefou paused and crossed his arms over his chest, a stubborn look coming into his eyes. "You need to tell me what happened here."

Gaston stopped in mid-step and turned to his friend. Lefou felt a chill as he looked into his eyes. He had never seen that expression on his face before. He looked almost afraid.

"Lefou, listen to me. We don't have much time. This was a wolf attack. But it is unlike any I've ever seen. There were hundreds. Look, here. And here." He pointed to claw marks dried into the bloody earth. "It wasn't just a pack. It was a swarm." He paused and looked down at the black fur and teeth he kept clutched in his hand. He held it out for his friend to examine.

"See this? This is the tooth of a wolf. Must have lost it during the feed. But this fur," he paused and moved it into the light, "it is not from a wolf. It is not from any animal I've seen."

He turned saddened eyes to Lefou and shook his head. "It got Jaquan."

Lefou started in surprise. "How do you know?"

Gaston turned away and pointed back to the clearing by the trees. "The hand. It had his ring on it. It was his marriage band. I remember it from his wedding, the garish thing. I made fun of it then." He rubbed a hand over his mouth and gave a slight shake of the head, forcing himself to say the impossible. "I think, _God_ , I think it wanted someone to find it."

"What did?" Lefou asked in an almost inaudible whisper.

Gaston stared deeply into the eyes of his traumatized comrade and spoke in a deep voice. "A beast."

Suddenly the horses began to stomp and both men found themselves looking over to make sure nothing was amiss. Lefou moved closer to the stallions and rubbed down their sides soothingly.

"The beast with the fur you don't recognize?" He questioned, his voice trembling.

"Yes," Gaston answered drawing closer, "but it's not just the fur. The trail to Jaquan is massive. The claws that scar the ground are impossibly large. Bigger than a bear or the great cats. I've never seen their equal. And the teeth marks…" He paused and placed a hand on Lefou's shoulder to prepare him. "They are gigantic, sharp fangs most likely. But that's not all. The bite was strategic. Just above the wrist and perfectly center. There wasn't a lot of blood from it either. I think it was done after Jaquan died, Lefou. It was left there on _purpose_."

Lefou began to shake and turned a sickly pale shade of green. "I think I need another minute before we go."

Gaston nodded but then flashed him a serious expression. "Fine, but hurry. Vouvant may be next. Belle…" He stopped and turned away, swinging up on his stallion.

"So that's why ya wanna leave the furs. So we can hurry back to _her_?"

"Do what you must, and come on," Gaston demanded and turned away from his ill friend, leading his horse to the trees.

His mind was focused. He had but one thought. _Belle._

He waited for his friend to join him, while every nerve in his body demanded action. The need for haste pushed him impatiently toward the trees. As he scanned the surrounding area his eyes focused in on something in the brush. It was a faint flash of light. He moved closer and his heart began to beat faster. There it was again, a tiny sparkle. The hair on his arms began to rise as the air in his lungs hitched.

Instantly, he saw a face just beyond the trees. It glowed with an inner light and radiated electricity throughout Gaston's body. He shook his head and led his horse nearer. There, standing with her arms to her sides was a gloriously beautiful woman. Gaston sucked in a breath and involuntarily slide from his horse to stand in front of her. He felt her light stretch out around him, grasping him with a burning mystical charge.

Then she spoke in a hauntingly melodic voice.

"Hello, Hunter."

 **A.N. All rights go to Walt Disney.**

Hello, readers! Well, who is this pretty lady? Let me know if you can guess. Another dark chapter, what are your thoughts? Feel sorry for Gaston yet? Write me a review and you won't get shot in the rump by an angry hunter!

I hope everyone is well! I've been a little sick, so I hope there aren't too many mistakes in this. I'll come back and edit when I feel less like dying! I want to thank my new reviewer, FantasyActionRomanceGirlCraze, (Awesome name!) my amazing guest reviewers, and those of you who have reviewed more than once. Your help and encouragement help to get me out of bed to write when I'm sick and all I want to do is sleep! As always, thank you all for reading, reviewing, favoriting and/or following. –S.


	17. Chapter 16: Dazed and Distracted

Chapter 16: Dazed and Distracted

The light grew brighter until he could no longer look directly at her. He felt his knees give and he landed heavily on the ground in front of her. She was lifting up into the sky in a blinding white halo of sunlight. Tears burned in the corners of his eyes.

"Wait!" He called, reaching up as she ascended. His fingers grasped the air and clasped around a slender ankle.

He held on for dear life.

"Don't leave me!" He begged. He felt his own life leave him the further she got.

Then the light eased back slightly and he could see her beneath its beams. Her lovely heart shaped face glowed but she frowned down at him sadly. Her long brown hair blew back, shooting rays of ivory in all directions. She spoke in a sweetly sympathetic voice.

"Adam. You let me go."

"No, never!" He denied, his deep voice choking with emotion. His grip on her tightened.

"You did." She persisted, with a sorrowful smile, her beauty almost as blinding as the light.

He shook his head and pounded his chest with a closed fist. "I take it back. I take it back." He repeated over and over, his heart bursting beneath his ribs.

"You can't, my love."

He lifted his head sharply at her words. Shock caused him to loosen his grasp on her. She lifted, her exalted body just out of his reach.

"Please, please. Don't…" He called, but she was too far away from him to hear.

He felt her light leave him, the beams parted from his flesh, and his skin turned cold. Deathly cold. She was gone, and he knew with her went his reason, his world.

* * *

The Beast awoke with a growl. He did not remember falling asleep, but the cold from the fireplace and the brightness of the room told him he had slept for hours.

The dream continued to lurk in his mind. It was foggy, but the feelings were so raw that they remained and resonated. He could still feel the excruciating loss, the mind-altering grief. He could see her. The woman. He tried to recall her face but couldn't make out the features.

Shaking himself out of his morose thoughts, he stood up from the carpeted ground and stretched out his long limbs. The Beast longed for a run in the woods and a meal of something red and juicy. His enormous body was perpetually cramped indoors.

He could smell his servant down the hall. Cogsworth was earlier than usual, and The Beast could hear his heart beat heavily in his chest. His claws extended naturally and he had to mentally force them back. He swung the door open and stared down at his surprised butler.

"I will never get used to that, sire!" The servant huffed, dramatically placing a hand on his chest.

"What is it, Cogsworth?" The Beast asked deeply, stepping carefully back to allow the little man entrance.

Cogsworth trudged into the room and shivered as the cold of the space hit him. "Are you well? It's freezing in here!"

The Beast didn't respond but folded his massive arms and rumbled low in his chest. At that, the butler let out an audible swallow and stood up straighter.

"Forgive me, sire. Mrs. Potts bid me fetch you. The girl has not recovered as well as she wished and still sleeps. I await your orders."

The Beast frowned and answered sternly. "I will be there in a moment. Warn the servants to avoid that room."

The man nodded solemnly and strode away with renewed purpose.

The Beast closed the door and began to dress. He forced his mighty body into his newly obtained attire, fighting the instinct to remain in just his fur. As the Beast, he despised the bonds of fabric and leather.

He stared at himself in the long, ornately gilded mirror and recoiled at his reflection. The monster that stared back at him was foreign and yet in a way, it was as familiar as his own voice. It had been with him his whole life, in the back of his mind. Now it had a face.

The Beast turned away and slammed the mirror against the wall. The sound of squeals and hurried feet reached his ears from down the hall. He knew he had frightened away some of the servants and a dark part of him was pleased.

He moved away from the glass covered ground and stomped out the door. He headed straight for the East wing and the girl.

He paused outside the room and listened to the sounds from within. All was silent except for shallow breathing and an occasional sigh. The Beast opened the door slowly and ducked inside the room. The girl lay in the center of a large bed. She looked impossibly small and frail. She was clean and dressed in a white gown that only accentuated the paleness of her skin. Her long curly hair was spread out around her like an amber crown. Her fair face was pulled tightly into a deep frown. She let out a moan.

The Beast watched as she tossed her head and mumbled a quiet word into her pillow. He made out the sound, thanks to his excellent hearing, and felt regret drop in the pit of his stomach.

"She's been talking all night. Wish I knew what she was saying." Mrs. Potts spoke from the doorway.

He didn't turn at the sound of her voice. He simply answered in a grave whisper. "She said 'Papa.'"

"Ah, well that makes senses, doesn't it? Been looking for her papa, sweet girl." Mrs. Potts responded, as she moved into the room and placed a bowl with a towel on the nightstand. She touched the girl on the forehead with the back of her hand and nodded.

"No fever. That's a good sign. But she hasn't opened an eye. Makes me worried, Master."

The girl shivered and buried herself deeper into her blankets. The Beast grabbed her cloak from the end of the bed and draped it gently over her. She instantly stilled and breathed more deeply. He looked over to Mrs. Potts but she did not seem to notice a change.

"Inform me if she makes any improvement. I shall be in the library." The Beast ordered roughly and turned away from his servant and the girl. The heaviness in his chest grew until his mood was so dark no one dared disturb him.

* * *

Mrs. Potts watched him depart and began to murmur to herself.

"As changeable as the weather. Thought he was bad before the curse, but now." She tisked loudly and shook her head. "Almost impossible, that's what he is. Hope that Savior comes soon so he can stop all that studying, too. Been haunting that library night and day." She wrung out the towel into the bowl and began to tap it to the girl's cheeks. Then, her unruly hips hit the bowl and upended it onto the floor.

"Oh, dear." She groaned and bent to clean her mess.

"Hello?" Came a tiny, strained voice behind her.

Mrs. Potts squeaked and stood up suddenly, dropping the bowl to the floor again. This time it broke with a loud shatter. The girl had spoken and was looking at the mess on the floor with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I startled you. Please, let me help." She offered and moved to sit up.

A sudden spell of dizziness seemed to overcome the girl and she sat back again, placing a trembling hand to her temple. She sent an apologetic smile to the white-capped woman and closed her eyes momentarily. "Emm, I don't seem to be myself at the moment."

When she opened them again she looked back at Mrs. Potts and frowned. The older woman had not moved. She stood still as a statue, surrounded by broken pieces of the porcelain. "Madame?"

After a long moment, Mrs. Potts began to recover and took a cautious step closer to the bed.

"Can you see me, dearie?" She asked slowly, her eyes wild and wide.

 **A.N. All rights to the Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! First of all, I would like to say thank you for being so patient waiting for this new chapter. Thank you all for the good wishes and messages. It meant so much to me! I would like to thank my new reviewer, civilwarrose for your thoughtful words and my lovely guest reviewers who always bring a smile to my face. I hope this was a nice reprieve from all the darkness of the last few chapters, but don't get too comfortable, readers! Any thought's about what is going on. Why is the Beast so interested in Belle? How can she see Mrs. Potts? Who is going to clean up that mess?! Let me know, and you can win a broken mirror, (bad luck not included!)

As always thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting. – S.


	18. Chapter 17: No Time to Explain

Chapter 17: No Time to Explain

Gaston's body refused to move. The more he struggled the tighter the hold on him became until his furious eyes were the last thing he could control. The woman gazed at him with a slight smile on her face. His resentment grew the longer he was held against his will. The urgent need to reach Belle filled every inch of his body.

"Hunter, calm yourself. She is safe, for now."

Gaston stopped his efforts and simply stared at her. His eyes squinted and bore into the golden-haired woman before him. Her face was calm but there was a turbulent energy that flowed from her body and spread out to him in bright bolts of lightning. His skin throbbed from the contact. His heart raced wildly.

Her smile grew at his glare. She lifted her hand slowly, and to Gaston's surprise, a staff appeared out of nowhere. With a slight thud to the ground, she released the grip on his body. The electric bonds pulled back and his muscles began to twitch uncontrollably. Every nerve awakened and pulsated. He fought to focus his mind as it spun away wildly.

 _Belle_. _He needed to get to Belle_.

He stumbled back toward his horse, only to find that it was no longer there. Rather, _he_ was no longer there. The trees around him, the village beyond, even Barron, were gone. All that he spied in every direction was the flickering light.

He turned back to the mysterious woman and blinked as her face swam before his eyes.

"It will take a moment to become accustomed to the light, Hunter, even for you. Perhaps it would be better if you sit." She suggested helpfully. The towering man merely sneered.

The woman laughed lightly and shook her head. "As you wish." She moved her long, elegant body to a wooden stump and sat upon it, as a queen would her throne.

Gaston crossed his arms against a sudden wave of nausea and swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.

"It is quite comfortable here, don't you agree?" The woman asked as sparks lit her bright eyes. Gaston turned away. He measured how many steps it would take to get through the light.

"It is endless, Hunter. The only way through is by my good grace." Gaston shot her an incredulous look and she continued nonplused. "I think it is time for us to talk, don't you?"

Gaston chuckled darkly. "Woman, you do not want to hear what I have to say to you." His voice was choked and he took an aching step toward her.

The golden goddess raised a brow and lifted her long white hand. "Please, do not let that stop you. I delight in your colorful conversation."

"Is that so?" He asked, with a painful swallow. The muscles in his neck beat a chaotic rhythm and squeezed his vocal chords. His hands bit down on his biceps as he struggled against the residual pain.

"Oh, yes. I have been very entertained during your journey." She tilted her head and asked, "Would you really have shot poor Lefou?"

The large man stepped forward again until he towered over the strange woman. She didn't move back or give any sign of alarm as he loomed menacingly in her direction.

"You've been following me?"

"Oh, Hunter. That is not the question. Come, think again. I'll wait." She smiled patiently as she leaned slightly to the left on her staff. She gazed up at the furious man before her and nodded encouragingly.

Gaston frowned and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you want with me, woman?"

She grinned in approval, flashing her beautiful white teeth. "There you go, Hunter. That is the right question."

He simply watched her and waited for her to continue. He was good at waiting. Finally, she stood and met his eyes. He felt the electricity blaze around him as her gaze became more intense. When she spoke again, all humor was gone from her tone and an ancient and solemn voice vibrated from her mouth.

"You are being called, Hunter, to fight against the greatest evil man and magic has ever known. Will you join your Prince and your love in this battle?"

Gaston felt a shock rock him. It almost knocked him to his knees. When he spoke it was with desperate urgency. "Belle? What are you saying? Belle is home in Vouvant!"

The woman shook her head and Gaston saw a strange look flicker across her face. "The Savior is far from home. Her journey has begun. Never to kneel, never to yield. Do not fear for her, Hunter. Fear for yourself, fear for others too weak to defend themselves from the dark beast."

Air was heavy in his chest and he barely breathed out the words, "Dark beast?"

The woman turned from Gaston and waved her staff at the wall of light. It parted at once, opening to the massacre in the fields. Gaston let his eyes follow her movement.

The scene was the same as earlier, and yet different. The gruesome images glowed in her electric light and Gaston found himself noticing things that had escaped him before. He could almost see the struggle with the wild pack as he stared at the marks left behind. His tracker's eye was sharpened by her illumination and the dead seemed to speak to him through their remnants.

The claw marks in the mud, the splashes of blood, the broken dwellings, they all pointed to a central figure. The beast. He may not have committed each offense, but he was present at every event, if only briefly. Gaston turned his gaze back to the woman in understanding.

"The dark beast?"

"Yes. This is not his only slaughter, nor will it be his last."

Gaston's hand went subconsciously to his bow and grasped it roughly. The anger inside of him was palpable and the woman nodded approvingly.

"Good, Hunter. I see we finally understand each other. The threat to our world is growing. The dark beast has recruited the wolves."

Gaston smirked at this. _Wolves_.

"I will handle the wolves. But what will _you_ do? I assume you are some sort of witch, with all of this." He waved a disgusted hand at the light. "Can't your people do anything?"

The woman stepped closer to the gigantic brute of a man and scowled. "My people, the _Enchanted_ , gave their lives in this fight, as I would gladly do."

Gaston shrugged and turned back to the scene of carnage. "Doesn't seem to have helped much." He turned to the Enchantress with a bold expression and continued. "Maybe you should have found me sooner."

The bolt hit Gaston's chest in an instant and he found himself kneeling in the dirt. It took Gaston a moment to understand what had happened, but when he did he looked up at the woman with contempt in his eyes. Her magic held him down, but he scowled from the ground.

"Don't like the truth?" His velvety voice mocked her as his handsome face shadowed with derision.

The magical being was trembling. Her beautiful features twisted and she knelt down in front of the immobilized man.

"Never to kneel, never to yield." She sang into his ear delicately.

Gaston felt her warm breath on his cheek and turned his face away. Then with a scoff, he growled. "Hmm, not my _favorite_ song."

The Enchantress took his face in her hand and turned it to her own. Her eyes speared his with yellow fire and she spoke in a soft, hypnotic voice. "Ever to feel, never to steal. Never to tame, always the same."

Though her words held little meaning to him, Gaston felt a rock form in the pit of his stomach. Alarm spread across his guts, but he held her eyes firmly.

"Is this how you treat your champions? No wonder all your clan is dead."

The flashing yellow and blue bolts were the last things he saw before he fell limply into the endless light.

* * *

The plump hand that slapped his face did so with more enjoyment than necessary. Gaston blinked up at his friend just in time for another swat. He heard Lefou's voice shout his name and Gaston raised a quick hand to halt another heavy hit.

"Enough." He grumbled from his place on the ground.

"Aw, man! I was just gettin' warmed up!" His friend whined and sat back on his heels with his arms crossed sullenly.

Gaston blinked up at him and frowned in warning. The impact of which was dampened considering that he was lying prostrate upon the frozen dirt. He wiped a hand across his mouth to remove the taste of mud from his lips. The large man pushed himself up into a seated position. His head spun slightly at the unwelcome movement but he managed to control his stomach.

Lefou stared at his old buddy. He tilted his head in uncharacteristic worry. "Ya get thrown?" He asked with a frown, searching for Gaston's stead. Barron was again in the clearing, munching happily on dry winter grass.

"No," Gaston answered shortly. He leaned his hands on his thighs and rocked into a kneeling position. When his short friend stood and offered a hand, he growled slightly and knocked it away. It took a few attempts but the hunter soon stood up on his own.

"You trip?"

Gaston turned incredulous eyes to Lefou and shook his head. "No."

He took a step to his horse, only pausing once to steady himself.

"Need a minute before we go? Ya look awful!" The little man shook his head as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"No," Gaston responded again, reaching for his reins. He placed a large foot in the stirrup and swung his massive form onto the horse. He closed his eyes briefly then turned to Lefou with an expectant stare.

"Guess you're in a hurry t'get back to the village," Lefou stated as he swept his heavy body across the clearing and over to his own horse. With considerably more difficulty, he mounted and waited for Gaston to lead the way. To his surprise, his friend did not move back to the path heading home. Instead, he cut straight through the trees with a lowered head bent in purpose.

Gaston spoke over his shoulder. "We are not going to the village."

"We're not?" His friend asked in a curious squeak. "I thought you wanted to get back to…"

Gaston cut him off with his next words and Lefou could only stare after him in wonder.

"We are going to see the Prince."

It took a moment for the little man to find his words, so surprised was he at what he had heard. When he did, they all seemed to tumble out at once.

"But the Château de Beauchene is haunted. The Prince'll lock us in his dungeon if we show up unannounced. What about the wolves and beasties. Don't ya want to go see Belle?"

Gaston stopped his horse abruptly and turned to look at his friend. "I am going to the castle in the woods. There is nothing that will change my mind. You can go home." He pointed to the path behind them. "The trail is that way. Be safe, old friend, and do not linger in the dark."

With that, he turned his stallion around and continued his journey. Lefou gave a longing look over his shoulder to the road that led to his village and then hurried his horse to catch up.

"You'd be lost without me." He called up ahead confidently.

Gaston smiled faintly in silent agreement.

 **A.N. All characters belong to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! And the president of charm school goes to...not Gaston! He certainly has a way with women. What are your thoughts? Do you think he should have joined our band of heroes? Or would you have told her to bugger off as well? Let me know, and you too can see the light! I want to thank my reviewers, especially Alex, who is new and my guest reviewers. I would like to thank those of you who continue to review. Your thoughts have been invaluable! As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and /or favoriting! – S.


	19. Chapter 18:Life is so Unnerving

Chapter 18: Life is so Unnerving

The white-haired woman stood gaping at Belle with large brown eyes. For a moment the girl pulled back, uncertain. There were so many emotions in the older lady's stare; surprise, shock, trepidation, suspicion. But most of all, there was hope. It was a hope so strong that Belle could feel it in her own heart.

The woman stepped forward and held out a hand in front of herself. Then, to Belle's astonishment, she began to wave it before her face. The round woman bounced up and down a little. It was all very odd. Belle bit her lip and when she spoke it was slow and cautious.

"Um, Madame, I can see you very well."

Without another word, the woman squeaked shrilly and, dropping everything in her grasp, threw herself at Belle with unrestrained glee. She gave the mystified girl a tight squeeze. Then she pulled back and clasped her by the hands. Her enthusiasm was infectious and she beamed brightly at Belle. Words began to fall from her lips in rapid succession but Belle could only catch a few as they bled together.

Belle smiled at the excited woman and leaned back in the bed. Her head was suddenly swimming.

"I'm sorry. I'm confused." She responded in a foggy tone. The woman grinned apologetically and began again.

"Oh, dearie, we have been waiting for you! I was giving up hope, don't tell the Master. And now here you are! Serves him right, I'd say. To think, the Savior, locked in a dungeon. But the Master's not so bad, once you get to know him." Her speech was again spoken in an excited tone and Belle tried to understand as best she could. Her expression must have been perplexed because the woman suddenly went silent. Her hands tightened on Belle's. Then she reached forward and grazed the young girls head.

"You don't have a fever, but you should rest. _So_ pale! I'm going to go tell the Master the news. He will be so pleased!" The woman smiled happily and paused. "Oh, my manners. I'm Mrs. Potts." She introduced herself and then flounced out of the room with a youthful spring in her step.

Belle sat in silence. The woman's words echoed around in her dizzy head. She needed to concentrate. Focus.

The white-haired woman was very excited, that was certain. _It was almost as if…yes, she said she had been waiting for her_. She called her the Savior, a strangely important word.

Belle looked around the beautiful room and felt her lips point down. _Such casual affluence_. When had she ever seen such beauty? The shimmering wallpaper with the delicately hand-brushed birds seemed to shiver in the candlelight. The heavy wood furniture shone with a fresh polish. The high posts on her bed curved with the natural shape of the wood and twisted into smooth limbs.

In the corner of the room, standing tall by a thickly paneled window, was a wardrobe painted a lovely shade of lavender. It was so pristine and graceful, Belle doubted anything she owned would be appropriate to place within its drawers. _Well, perhaps Gaston's cloak,_ she thought, somewhat absently.

Sudden panic struck her chest and she gazed around the spacious room, looking for the lost garment. Her eyes rested on the white fur-lined cloak on her chest and she exhaled thankfully.

Just as quickly as she felt her relief, a rush of anxiety returned. The cloak had been changed forever and in ways that she didn't even know yet. Deep within her, she knew she had been changed as well. Belle squinted her eyes and tried to remember why. Images began to flood her mind.

The enchanted child, surrounded by light, wind, and snow, stood before Belle in her mind. She was as clear as true life. Belle's mission, terrifying and abrupt, poured from her tiny pink lips. _Find the Master and find her father. Savior._ Savior? _Savior of what? From what?_

Belle sat up quickly, and swung feet to the side of the bed, her mind suddenly fevered. The threat was unknown for the moment but she knew instinctively that she needed to rush.

She looked around the magnificent room for her clothes and found them in a neat little stack by the bed. With a swift arm, she swept her nightgown over her head and pulled her blue gown onto her body. It smelled fresh and clean. The splatters had been scrubbed from the fabric. Belle turned her eyes around hurriedly to find her dainty boots and discovered them absent. She bit her lip in frustration and pulled her hair over her shoulder as she dropped to the floor to look under the bed.

It was then that the door swung open. It was then that she remembered Mon Ange's words. As her eyes widened in shock, her brain grasped at the memory.

" _The dark beast…he and his horrendous pack have destroyed them all."_

There, in the doorway, blocking the only exit, was the creature itself. Belle felt a shiver run up her spine and her stomach trembled. _Run!_ She thought in panic. For a moment she turned a hopeful gaze to the window. She was up too high. Belle quickly dismissed the idea as suicidal.

It was terribly difficult, but Belle turned back to the creature. It was enormous.Belle blinked furiously, holding in a scream that felt like it was ripping at her throat. She focused in on its eyes and drew in a breath. The expression within them was enigmatic. It seemed for a moment that Belle fell into their deep blue depths. She broke free with a shake of her head. Her palms slid across the cool marble floor as she edged back slowly.

" _Never to kneel, never to yield."_

Belle jerked as the cryptic speech rung in her ears. Her gaze flitted around the room. There was no one but the Beast.

 _Never to kneel._ The words came again and Belle felt her body begin to rise.

She shook inside and doubted her own actions as her bare feet suddenly bore her weight. With a bravery she did not fully trust, her tiny chin lifted. She spoke in a voice that though small, held a simple strength.

"Hello, Beast. I'm Belle."

 **A.N. All rights belong to the Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! And so they speak, sort of. What are your thoughts on our brave girl? What do you hope will happen next? Let me know and I'll give you a cryptic flashback for Christmas.

Your words, both in reviews and through PM, have made me so happy! Is there any fandom like the BATB fandom!? As always thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! –S.


	20. Chapter 19: Hopeless

Chapter 19: Hopeless

"Hello, Beast. I'm Belle." Her words hung in the air and the name seared into his mind. _Belle, his Savior._ If Mrs' Potts was to be believed, she had come at last.

The woman was visibly shaken, both by his appearance and her recent illness. As the Beast stared at her, her chin raised another notch.

 _Brave girl,_ he thought, his hopes rising as he took a slow step into the room. She didn't move back as he came forward. She just blinked once and held her breath.

His presence made her uncomfortable.

"Hello." He paused and then tasted the word. "Belle."

His sharp gaze followed her every movement. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth. She gnawed at it and shuffled her bare feet. Her breath hitched with every inch he moved. The spicy scent of Belle's fear mingled with her natural flowery aroma and caused his fur to rise.

"You fear me." He stated plainly, taking another measured step into the room.

The girl shook her head.

The Beast grunted slightly and surveyed the witch with piercing blue eyes. Her own hazel orbs stared back at him with fright, he could make no mistake about that, but there was also curiosity within them. The Beast rumbled in his throat loudly and turned away.

"You're small." He pointed out, accusingly. "Weak, as well."

When Belle did not respond, the Beast snorted and continued. "And yet, Mrs. Potts said you spoke with her."

It took a moment but the girl let out a shaky breath and spoke, "I have."

Her small declaration made the Beast's heart jump. A small flutter of hope played beneath his chest. He turned in the cramped space, pointing his horns to the ground at her feet.

His brows pulled together and the Beast inquired slowly, "And you saw her?" His voice vibrated deeply.

Belle paused for a moment and tilted her head before answering. "Y-yes, of course."

The Beast felt a sudden burst of energy fill his body. _Finally!_ He thought as he looked at the doorway _. Mrs. Potts should have been back by now_. He rumbled under his breath in frustration. He was ready to begin. Ready to save his kingdom. His biceps flexed under his fur and his claws bite into the purple rug and marble underneath. He looked back at Belle and saw a strange expression in her eyes. Then he noticed that she was swaying slightly on her bare feet.

"Lie back down," he ordered roughly, "before you fall down."

The girl shook her head and leaned a hand on the mattress. "I am fine, thank you."

She was not fine. Her skin was almost the same color as the cloak on the bed and her upper lip had a soft sheen above it. She was struggling. With a grunt, the Beast moved forward and swept her up and onto the bed. He felt Belle's small body stiffen in his hands and pull away from him.

The Beast stared at her for a moment before he moved back and crossed his arms. "Sit at least. What good is a dead Savior?"

Belle's eyes grew large and she opened her mouth to speak. Before she got a word out, his overdue servant came into the room. Mrs. Potts was all smiles as she bounced through the door pushing a tea cart.

"Here we are, my dear, a nice cup of tea." The sunny woman sang, moving to the bed. The Beast stepped back to allow her access to the girl. "Ah, I see you have gone and dressed. That's good." She prattled cheerfully, lifting an ornately decorated teapot filled with steaming amber liquid.

"Never understood those young people who can't dress them…" Her hands and words paused their work as she looked at the girl in the bed.

The Beast glanced up as the silence grew heavy and discovered both women halted in muted silence. The plump servant stood as still as a statue, her hands still balancing the pot in the air. The Beast furrowed his brow and moved forward. "What is it?" he grumbled at both.

The girl started at his nearness. There was a moment of quiet when neither spoke, then Belle declared, clearly alarmed. "The, the teapot is _talking_."

It took a moment for him to speak. Confusion was written on the girl's face and he knew his own mirrored the expression.

"What?" He asked again, turning his eyes to Mrs. Potts. The older woman slowly lowered the vessel and placed it back on the tray. Belle concentrated on its movement with a bewildered expression. She raised a trembling hand to her head.

"Perhaps I _should_ lie down," Belle mumbled under her breath.

"Master?" Mrs. Potts turned from the girl and stared at him helplessly. With a strangled sob, the troubled older woman dropped her head into her hands. "I thought…I thought… But she saw me! I know it!"

The Beast felt his breathing pick up. "You don't see her, do you?" He accused the girl with a snarl. He watched as Belle sunk into the pillows beneath her. The Beast felt his anger engulf him and fought for focus. It was too similar to the night of her arrival.

Twice he had been fooled by this girl. Twice his hopes had been risen only to crash. He turned away from the bed, away from the object of his anger, and moved to the window. With a vicious thrust, he slammed open the glass and pushed his face into the frigid air. He willed his mind to calm. His brutal paws grasped the wood frame and squeezed until it crackled beneath his grip.

"I'm sorry, Master. I thought…" His distraught servant began, her sweet, motherly voice dripping with pain. The Beast felt the weight of her sadness as heavy as his own.

"Mrs. Potts?" The words belonged to the girl. Both heads turned to her in surprise.

She had not moved from where he laid her and her face was still a mask of confusion. The girl searched the room blindly.

"Is that you?"

Mrs. Potts moved closer to the bed and reached for the girl's hands. Belle pulled back in surprise and sucked in a breath. Then she turned troubled eyes to the Beast and frowned. "What is this? I don't understand."

The Beast didn't respond. His eyes pulled into hard slits and a deep rumble reverberated deep within his chest. His massive horns swung as he turned to face her fully. He saw himself in her eyes, a Beast, a monster, and he was pleased.

The girl pulled herself to the opposite side of the bed, barely missing his stunned maid and broken glass on the floor. She slipped her feet to the ground and stood with her chest heaving. She touched her forehead and swallowed.

The Beast and Belle locked eyes for an instant in the silence. Then she moved. Quick as a fox, she snatched her cloak from the bed and dashed out of the room. Her steps were light and her long dark hair flew behind her in a veil of curls as she bounded down the staircase with frantic speed.

"Master? Master! She's leaving!" He heard Mrs. Potts words as if they were yelled down a tunnel. His mind was blackening. He felt the creature clench his chest and knew he only had moments before he lost complete control.

He began to pant. His muscles flexed and tore the tight shirt he wore. His fangs bared like white knives in the candlelight. Turning his steel blue eyes to Mrs. Potts, the woman who raised him, he pulled back his lips and snarled.

"Get out!" He told her.

For once, the woman didn't argue. She moved quickly for one so aged, and before long the Beast was pacing in the room alone. He could still smell the girl. Tracking her would be so easy. _Too, too easy._ He needed to breathe.

With a manic growl, he pushed himself to the window. The cold air wrapped around his face but it wasn't enough. Grabbing the wooden frame, he pulled himself up and out. His claws stabbed the gray castle walls as he climbed. His muscles flexed and tore and he groaned with both pain and pleasure. It was easy. So easy. Then he was at the pinnacle point. He stopped at the very top of his enormous home and clung to the gargoyle with his terrible claws. His fierce gaze scanned the ground below him.

And there she was. Her horse was carrying her away.

 _The little deceiver_.

His blood-lust was poignant.

 _Belle,_ he breathed and reminded himself of her name _._

 _Hazel eyes. Long brown hair._ _Belle. Just a girl._ The Beast snarled but remembered the smell of flowers and spice.

He whipped his head back and forth and scrapped his horns on the bricks and iron. It wasn't working. He wanted blood.

Then he turned his eyes back to the woods that she had disappeared into and saw _them_. Their red eyes glinted in the sunlight. Wolves.

With a monstrous roar, the Beast flung himself from the impossible height and landed against the wall of the opposite tower. His claws scratched and sparked down the building and he thundered again. The sound bounced off the ebony bricks and echoed through the trees.

Howls came back in response. His mind was a haze of rage.

The girl was riding straight to her death, and the wolves had come at last.

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney Co**

Hello, readers! Are you ready for some action? What do you think is happening next? What's the deal with these servants? Tell me your thoughts and Beast will look at you like you're dinner!

I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed, including my new reviewers Simply-Passing-Through, gisela19wwe,Comical freaka, and greensarcher. I'm so glad you found this story and enjoy it. To those of you trusty friends who are constant in your reading, reviewing and PMing, you have my greatest thanks and respect. As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! -S.


	21. Chapter 20: Positively Primeval

Chapter 20: Positively Primeval

"I thought ya' never got lost." Came the irritating voice of the rider behind him.

Gaston didn't look back or take the bait. His gaze remained focused on the trees ahead. The thick woods laid out in a tangled web of thorns and tall dry grass. Barron protested their progress with a huff but continued into the brush. Gaston rubbed his stallion's neck and sounded a knowing click of his tongue. With the passage of time, they seemed to only move away from the path and farther into the unknown.

"Thought you were the best tracker in town." The plump man continued with a chuckle. The sound caused Gaston to grind his teeth and speed up slightly.

"Gosh, I wish the triplets could see us. Big, booted Gaston, can't find the largest castle in the land behind some trees. Bet I'd get a chance now!" Lefou guffawed loudly. The noise echoed slightly on the air.

Gaston grunted in reply. His small friend was an idiot, but he wasn't wrong. Gaston was lost. The experience was new to him. In all his years tracking within the trees, he had never lost his way. In fact, a week ago, he would have bet that he could find any trail with his eyes closed. But he would have been proven wrong.

He had been to the castle many times in the past. His wares were much sought after and he made his fortune supplying the royalty with furs.

There were markers along the way that he would casually notice; a tree that curved into a cane, a little brook that frosted over in winter, a hidden cave that held hundreds of bats. He didn't need these landmarks to guide him, but he acknowledged them all the same. Now they were nowhere to be seen.

The day was warming up, thankfully, but that just meant that they were losing time. Gaston slowed his horse slightly and jumped to the ground. He needed to stretch his legs. He planted his feet and lifted his shoulders, elongating the tense cords of his spine. Once his muscles were appeased, he turned his eyes to the brush beside him. The tall blades were brittle, like sharp sticks instead of soft grass. He tilted his head and moved closer.

"Are we breakin' to eat? I'm starvin'" Lefou moaned and slipped from his saddle, landing on trembling legs. With a grunt, he planted himself on the cold dirt. The exhausted man reached inside of his coat and brought out a half-eaten chunk of bread wrapped in paper. He then proceeded to munch away without another glance at his enormous friend.

Gaston did not follow suit. He was busy inspecting the grass and trees beyond. He moved closer to the earth and dipped a hand in the dirt. Opening his palm, he let the specks sift through his fingers. He held the remaining particles close to his nose. His eyes slanted as his gaze wandered up. Then, with a speed only he was blessed with, he crouched to the ground and moved behind a tree.

"Lefou! Take cover!" He ordered in an urgent whisper. His friend looked up in surprise but rolled to the ground. He crawled on his belly to where Gaston waited and followed his gaze.

"What is it?" He asked, breathless.

Gaston held a finger to his lips and shoved him down lower to the ground, hiding Lefou behind his body. He pointed up to a long brown rope that hung above their heads. He followed along its path with his hand and tapped the side of his nose, before edging sideways. With a look to Barron ordering him to stay, Gaton inched forwards on bended knees. His boots slid along the dirt soundlessly and Lefou followed behind.

The rope drooped across the tree branches and disappeared into a dark clearing a few arpents away. Gaston turned then and grabbed his friend by his soiled shirt front. He pulled him close and hissed into his ear.

"Someone is watching us. The grass is bent in that direction." He nodded his head to the right. "But if they are smart, and I think they are, it was done on purpose. We go that way." He frowned to the left. Then slowly he crossed into the poking weeds.

The thorns bit into his thighs as he crawled along the ground. He could hear Lefou breathing heavily. Gaston kept his eyes and ears alert. As he moved he noticed a trap to his right. It was simple but brilliant in its own way. A rope lay slightly raised beside a hidden hole. It was just deep enough to capture a man's ankle. The victim would then trip and release a forked stake and snare. Gaston frowned. _There was no bait._

They moved past the trap slowly, avoiding any similar tricks, and almost reached the area where the rope disappeared from view. It was then that they heard the grumbling.

Turning to his side, Gaston looked up and saw the creature. It's long, razor-sharp tusks were covered in red mud and it pressed its snout into its hidden dinner. It snorted loudly as it routed for more. Lefou shuffled away in fear. Gaston held up a hand for silence and reached for his bow and arrow. The boar would make for a good meal.

As he steadied himself on one knee, the creature looked up. Killer instinct seemed to overwhelm it and it forgot its food instantly. The large, bulbous eyes filled with rage and the boar slashed its tusks in the air, preparing to charge. Gaston was quick and his arrow flew true. With a whiz and a thud, it stabbed the wild hog and sent it falling to its side. A glittering light came to Gaston's eyes as he turned to his friend.

The momentary triumph felt by the two travelers was cut short by the triggering of a trap. Almost instantly the boar was lifted by the legs and pulled, head down, into the trees. Gaston grunted and almost stood in anger. Instead, he picked up his speed and rushed into the darkness.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The black branches swung at his face and blinded him. He could hear Lefou stumbling around next to him and felt his hand grab for his shoulder.

"Stay close." Gaston breathed, clutching his bow.

The air seemed thicker within the heavy woods. Gaston paused to consider why. They must be close to a marsh or swamp. He could taste the dampness on his tongue and smell the wet dirt. He looked up into the trees.

The trappers were good. A lesser man would have already been caught within the hidden snares or at least would have set off one of the many sound alarms. He turned his gaze to the chimes and veiled spikes and smiled slightly. He almost wanted to meet them.

With a smirk, he turned to share his thoughts with Lefou just in time to see the man back into one of said spikes. Gaston responded instantly, slamming into the man and knocking him out of the way. His body swung left just in time to miss the flying wooden spear. He cursed soundly under his breath and glared at his clumsy comrade.

"You're going to get us killed." He thundered under his breath as he bent to pick up the stick. He held it up to his eyes in the dark and frowned. The point wasn't blunt, but it wasn't sharp enough to kill from that speed. At most, it would injure the unknown invader.

Gaston threw it down into the frozen dirt and turned to his friend.

"Strange." He mumbled.

"What?" Lefou asked, still clearly dazed from his rush with death.

Gaston shook his head and stepped closer. "I don't know yet. _All of this_. I felt the eyes of the trappers from the road but where are they?"

"Ya' want them to get us?" Lefou asked in amazement.

"I want answers. This whole thing is wrong. This place." He gazed around them. "It shouldn't be here. Maybe we aren't the only ones lost in these woods."

Gaston felt a tingle of awareness before he heard the voice from the branches above. The large man looked up in amazement, peering into the shadows. Then a voice came through the leaves and he stared in shock at the sight that followed.

"I always said you were smart."

 **A.N All rights to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! Now here is a mystery! Who is within these trees? Can you guess? You get this right and maybe Gaston will share his boar with you!

I want to thank you all for continuing to support this story! Your words have been so encouraging and helpful. I want to thank pinkdynamite, VictoriaJameson, greensarcher, PastOneonta, FantasyActionRomanceGirlCraze, Booklover (lovely name!), and my darling guest reviewers! You are amazing! My next chapter is written, so no long wait. I just have to finish the editing. As always, thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! –S.


	22. Chapter 21:Through the Mist, to the Wood

Chapter 21: Through the mist, to the Woods

It had snowed during the night. It was not the soft snow from before, but a heavy fall that stuck to the earth and blanketed the woods. Belle's horse seemed to struggle on the slick wet road and their progress was slowed.

Belle felt the cold on her dangling naked feet. The rest of her was tucked warmly within the enchanted cloak, and yet she could not stop the trembling of her body.

She had been face to face with the creature and yet she lived. The same could not be said for the former inhabitants of the castle. Belle's chest tightened as she thought of those poor souls. All lost. She shuddered again and fought back tears.

She had failed in her mission.

Belle shook her head. _I will find papa myself. Then we will decide how to stop the creature. S_ he bit her lip in doubt. _If only I knew where…_

But her thoughts were interrupted. There was a rustling in the trees behind her. With a sharp jerk of her head, Belle stared into the shadows.

At first, there was nothing. The trees simply swayed in the glistening sunlight and Belle began to breathe again. Then it happened once more, a slow and deliberate crackling of leaves and branches.

 _The Beast!_ Belle screamed internally. Her body responded quickly. Grasping the reins in her hands, she pushed the horse forward. Her limbs tightened and urged the animal to hurry.

"Hurry!" She demanded, twisting her body to navigate the way.

Belle's borrowed stead tried its best but it was not bred for racing. What it provided with sturdiness it lacked in speed.

Soon the invisible threat was surrounding her within the veil of trees. Then Belle saw them and nearly choked on her surprise. Their eyes gleamed in the early light and reflected back with an evil glint.

Wolves.

She was surrounded. Her horse had pulled to a stop and was prancing back. It threatening to throw its mistress. Belle patted its sides, attempting to calm the increasingly maddened animal.

Her eyes never left the pack. It was large. More than ten, possibly twenty. Likely more than that. The black and gray creatures lifted their snouts to the pair and Belle watched their eyes fill with hunger. One or two of them snapped at the horse's legs. Belle gasped as she felt hot breath on her bare feet and calves.

In the next moment she was flying through the air and landing on the hardened snow. Her body made a painful thud. The horse had succeeded in dislodging her. She watched from the ground as it dashed away through the overhanging trees.

"No!" Belle breathed from her cold bed on the ground.

The wolves began to circle her, growling and snipping. One bold member of the pack caught a thick strand of her hair in his teeth and pulled back viciously. Belle let out gasp of pain as she struggled to release her imprisoned scalp.

Encouraged, other wolves moved in. They bit at her gown and the exposed flesh of her ankle. The wounds weren't deep, but they broke the skin and blood began to soak the virgin snow beneath her.

Belle's vision couldn't focus on the crazed creatures. There were too many. One wolf snapped at her shoulder and attempted to wrap its jaws around her bones, but its razor teeth could not get past the thick cloak that protected her. Belle pulled back forcefully until her garment was released from the its grasp. The act sent her propelling backwards. She landed on her side and slipped down a hidden slope to the edge of the clearing.

The animals followed after her. The further Belle moved away, the more she became cornered against the outlining trees. As the wolves moved in slowly, a few began to fight amongst themselves for the fresh meal. A scuffle took place but was quickly abandoned as they turned back to Belle.

She saw them advance with eyes blurry with tears and droplets of warm blood. There was nothing to do but wait for the teeth to devour her.

Then she saw _him._ Their leader. The Beast. Belle stopped breathing entirely.

He was enormous. Far larger than he appeared in the tranquil setting of the warm room in the castle. His body was massive. Belle shrank back as the Beast approached. In his presence, she almost forgot the wolves that surrounded her.

 _He shouldn't be able to move so quickly_ , she thought to herself, her mind half lost to shock. Yet he did. The Beast sped forward with an ungodly strength that propelled him like an arrow. His claws met and left the ground sharply, soundlessly. His heavy body left only clouds of snow in his wake.

The Beast's face was focused. His blue eyes were piercing. He looked hungry.

Belle fell back against the trees and brush as she watched him over the heads of the biting wolves. Then he was upon them.

 _Them?_

Belle wiped damp fingers over her eyes but the image stayed the same. The Beast, the leader of the pack of wolves, the murderer of an entire species, was not attacking _her_. He was fighting the creatures. Belle gasped as she watched the scene before her.

He was ferocious. His teeth and claws struck the animals without mercy. He tore their flesh, one by one, throwing the wolves to the ground in mounds of whimpering, mutilated fur. The sound was deafening. Roars and wailing, howls and growls, echoed through the empty clearing. The noise bounced off the trees and repeated in an endless symphony of pain.

The Beast fought like the creature he was, but he fought for her. It was clear as any truth Belle had ever known. He wasn't trying to assist in her murder but was attempting to prevent it. _The Beast fought the wolves. He was in the castle and Mrs. Potts called him Master. He had used the name Savior_.

Belle felt the ground below her give again. The mangled snow shifted and pushed her back. As her body spun downwards, her mind fought for reason. With difficulty, she pulled herself up and over to where the battle was taking place.

When her eyes refocused she was met with a surprising sight. The Beast was surrounded. Somehow, he had lost the high ground and the wolves were moving in. They did not wait this time. Instead, the pack attacked immediately. They flew at the Beast and ripped at his flesh with savage claws, all at once.

The Beast let out a roar full of pain and fury. He twisted his massive body and flung a wolf off. Belle watched as it landed with a whine against a nearby tree. That wolf was soon replaced with another and the Beast fell to his knees.

Without thinking, Belle searched the trees for something to use as a weapon. Her hands fumbled along the snow before finally closing around a long thick branch.

She didn't plan to attack. Her feet simply started moving in the direction of the struggle. Then she was swinging. Belle's first bat went over the head of a black wolf. Her second made a sickening thud. The force of it vibrated down her arms and knocked her back. But it also dropped the animal.

Belle stared at the wounded creature in shock for a moment, then she turned back to the fight. Her arm began swinging on its own. She was overcome. A force drove her and soon she was knocking the wolves away from the Beast with delirious speed. Over and over she beat them back.

Belle raised the bloody branch up over her head again and swung it down. This time it was caught. Her heart lurched. Her eyes focused in on the fingers that clenched it and she gulped in shock. The Beast simply yanked the limb away and threw it to the ground.

Belle's mind still raced and her blood rang in her ears, but she focused in on the dangerous blue eyes before her and paused. _There was something in those eyes_. Without a word they drifted shut and the mammoth Beast fell forward with a heavy crash.

"No!" Belle cried and rushed forward. She touched a tenuous hand to the back of his torn and blood-soaked shirt.

Her eyes dashed around her, taking in the horrific sight. The wolves were gone, those who still lived. Those who did not…Belle looked away and focused on the wounded Beast.

She ran her hand up to his throat and searched for a pulse. His fur was thick and matted from the fight but Belle felt a heavy heartbeat beneath her fingers.

She raised her hand to her forehead and spun around quickly. The horse was gone. There was no way to move the giant creature. She bit her lip and pulled her hair over her shoulder, cringing from the pain on her scalp.

For a moment a thought entered Belle's mind. _She needed to leave. The wolves were on the loose. She needed to find her father!_ Then shame washed over her in a hot wave. The Beast had protected her. He had defended and bled for her. She couldn't abandon him.

Exhaustion found Belle in that moment. The thrill of the fight, the adrenaline that had motivated her, left her body. She felt her knees buckle slightly but managed to remain standing. Her eyes searched the ground and came to rest on her deadly branch. She walked over slowly and grasped it in her hands. Then the broken woman turned back to the Beast.

With steps weighed down by fatigue, Belle made her way over to her sleeping defender. She shrugged her slim shoulders and felt her cloak slip down her arms. The cold hit her cruelly. Belle began to shiver.

She let herself slide down to the snow beside the Beast and flung her cloak over him. Then, with her tiny hands gripping the red splattered branch close to her chest, she slumped back against his hard, bristly body, and give in to the weariness she could no longer fight.

 **A.N. All rights go to the Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! Let's all take a breath. What do you think of our bat swinging heroine? Anyone else want to see her go up against Negan? How did you feel after this chapter? Tell me your thoughts and the Beast will protect you from the scary wolves!

I would like to thank my reviewers,greensarcher, FantasyActionRomanceGirlCraze, PastOneonta, and DiizGirlJess, who hurried this chapter along. I hope you are pleased with it! Thank all of you who have contacted me as well. Your friendship is amazing! And as always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! - S.


	23. Chapter 22: That Loon

Chapter 22: That Loon

His gray hair was tangled and longer than the young hunter remembered. It hung in thick ringlets around his face that reminded Gaston of his daughter. For a moment he simply stared at the man, then Lefou's shocked intake of breath shook him into motion.

Gaston stepped closer to the old inventor who stood in the trees, leaning slightly on a branch. "Well, you _were_ always mad." He responded with an incredulous shake of his head.

"So they tell me." The aged man nodded sadly, displaying a small smile. He bent forward at the waist and knelt down slowly. His body landed heavy on the side of his perch and he sighed as he sat, still holding the stick.

"I have always been mad, as _you_ have always been bold, and look at us. We have both ended up in the same place." His hazel gaze went past Gaston and took in the still immobilized Lefou. He nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

When he heard no response, Gaston turned and swung his hand back, smacking his friend in the chest. It worked to jostle the little man out of his thoughts.

"The inventor? What is he doin' here?" Lefou lifted his eyes up and laughed a little too loudly. "And in a tree, too."

Gaston didn't answer. He turned his gaze back to the man who sat high in the branches and waited. The inventor sighed in a low and shallow huff. His feet, dangling in the air above their heads, began to swing to a slow, silent rhythm. "I think in time you will find, young man, that you prefer being off the ground as well."

"Oh yeah?" Gaston's robust companion questioned disinterestedly, his stare moving along the canopy of leaves. The ropes wove throughout the length of the limbs, connecting them in an intricate bridge system. Even from the ground, the two hunters could observe the painstaking detail in the knotting. One tree was strung to the next and each seemed to have its own rudimentary dwelling high above the ground. It was a village in the sky. Lefou let out a slow whistle and shook his head.

Gaston felt the same surprised response within himself but he simply rubbed his chin and smiled. "You've been busy."

"I've had an abundance of time on my side."

The tremendous trapper stepped forward, tilting his head ever so slightly. Tickles of awareness still ran down his neck. The inventor's eyes were not the only ones upon them.

"How much time are we talking about, Maurice?" He asked.

The inventor frowned and ran a hand through his wild silver locks. After a moment of reflection, he answered with bewildering hesitation. "I seem to have lost track. The days begin to bleed into each other as time passes." He waved a hand over his shoulder at the humble dwellings behind him. "I used to keep track. Marked the tree with a slash for every day, but then, then…"

"Yes?" Gaston encouraged. The tickle on his skin turned to flame along his flesh. There was something very wrong. He followed Maurice's stare and moved closer to the tree to examine it with his sharp eyes. The gashes lined the man's doorway and ran alongside the frame. Made with a knife, they scarred the tree in short, purposeful stripes. When the inventor had run out of room on his small home, he had moved down. The trail traveled along the sides of the wood in short, sharp slashes. Gaston stepped forward and ran a hand over the splintered bark that wrapped the trunk.

"Then, I ran out of room." The old man murmured. Though his gaze had followed the path of lines, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Lefou stepped closer to his companion and spoke in an unsuccessful whisper, "Crazy old Maurice. Always good for a laugh."

Gaston turned to Lefou and frowned. "I am not laughing." His tone was stern and humorless. The white of his eyes seemed to almost disappear as he squinted at the shadows of the trees. "I know you are there. Show yourselves." He bellowed.

The leaves were silent. Had he been anyone other than who he was, he probably would not have known of their existence. But being that he was none other than the most astute tracker in the land, he knew their exact locations within the darkness.

The silence stretched for a moment longer than Gaston was comfortable with and suddenly the giant man lost his patience. With movements so swift a blink would have missed them, he drew and released his arrows. The thud of them hitting their marks was the only sign they had been shot at all.

Four feathered projectiles flew and four startled grunts were heard in the green. Gaston lowered his bow and leaned on it slightly as he waited.

"Come out now, or the next four will not be so thoughtfully aimed." He warned with a cold smile.

A rustling soon followed. The sound of muttering and heavy breathing drifted down. Gaston cleared his throat loudly in warning and finally, a face emerged from the darkness. Then a body. Then three more came forward.

The men were all large, though not as large as the hunter. Their shaggy heads sat upon slim shoulders. The clothes that draped across their bodies were not new, in fact, they seemed to be years past their date of use. Gaston noted _that_ , along with their obvious lack of footwear. It was cold in the forest. They were not dressed for the weather.

They had not spoken yet but simply stared at the assaulting newcomer with varying degrees of suspicion and anger. Several of them jumped when the sound of soft laughter filled the air. All eyes turned to the inventor.

"Always were such a charmer. You haven't changed a da…" Maurice paused in his laughter and his eyes grew wide. "A day." He finished in awe.

Gaston frowned and swung his head back to look at the newcomers. A long lean man with ginger hair and splotchy white skin caught his attention. His eyes seemed the most alert, intelligent even, though filled at the moment with anger. Gaston let his frown perk up as he nodded to the man.

"What's your name?" He asked aloud in his deep baritone.

The red-haired man smirked and stepped closer to the edge of the bridge he stood upon and crossed his long arms.

"Name's Jasper to my friends. You can call me sir."

The sound of snickering filled the leafy dome above him and Gaston simply shook his head. "No, I think not. You look like one of those Orangutans they found in the forests across the oceans. Have you seen them, Lefou? Is he not the image of those ridiculous monkeys?"

Lefou, always the faithful audience, laughed loudly at the comparison and began making monkey noises while scratching his head and armpit.

"Now, Orang, care to introduce the rest of your group?" Gaston grinned broadly, flashing his dazzling white teeth.

Jasper seemed to question whether he should answer to that name, then just leaned back on his heels in quiet protest.

"Gaston, these gentlemen are Charles, Armand, and Philippe." Maurice swallowed visibly before saying the last name. The men simply fixed the newcomers with cold eyes and nodded.

Gaston turned from the group to Lefou and clapped him on the shoulders. "I feel so welcome. Don't you Lefou? Shall we set up for the night with our new friends?"

Lefou smiled slowly and nodded. "It would be rude not to."

They both looked up at the bewildered crew and Gaston spoke loudly with his characteristic ego. "We accept your invitation. But only for tonight." He insisted though the men remained silent. Then he turned and waved them back. "No, no. We could not stay longer. Lefou, would you be so kind as to retrieve our horses."

"Of course."

"I think tonight we shall feast on the wild boar we so graciously provided." Gaston turned and spoke louder. "A gift, as thanks for your hospitality."

Then the hunter wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulder, turning him away, and whispered in his ear. "Take care. The traps are set. Watch your step and your back." Then he swatted him hard on the back and turned back to the men and paused.

A strange thing was happening. Gaston felt a chill run up his spine as he looked at each of the men, in turn, starting from the Orang to the man named Philippe. They were all _smiling_. Gaston crossed his arms at the chest, casually feeling for the bow that hung over his shoulder.

"I'm glad you are all so pleased with our company." He bellowed upwards.

"Oh, I guess we will have to get used to you." The Orang named Jasper chuckled. "Seeing as you won't be leaving here."

Gaston's dimples deepened and his fingers grasped for the bow. _Time for some fun_ , he thought. "Is that so?" His hands twitched, eager for the action about to unfold.

Then he was stopped by the next words whispered almost absently by the father of the woman he loved. "I'm sorry Gaston, but it really is."

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was fun to write. I have been planning this meeting for a while. Were you surprised? Did you know all along, clever readers? Let me hear you brag. Write me a note and avoid an arrow.

I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed, pinkdynamite, Sketchingnerd, PastOneonta, (Can't you just envision this reviewer?), autumn2374, Enchanted, gisela19wwe and of course my lovely guest reviewers! You are all so amazing! As always, I would like to thank you all for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! -S


	24. Chapter 23: Hold Still

Chapter 23: Hold Still

Belle was warm. Blissfully so. She turned her face and rubbed it against the fur blanket that lay wrapped around her. With a contented sigh, she nuzzled in a little deeper.

The sun shined on her face and birds tweeted in the trees. Belle pointed her toes. The joints were sensitive and cramped. With a tiny moan, she pulled them up and tucked them into the blanket. It jerked slightly and groaned _._

Belle paused at that.

Curious, she poked again with her frozen feet. An irritated rumble vibrated against her ear and the blanket tightened around her. Belle jerked awake immediately.

There, holding her firmly against his side, was the Beast.

Belle felt panic rise in her throat. Her breath released in soft pants that ruffled his fur and tickled her nose. Her body rubbed against him. The friction caused tiny beads of sweat to form on her brow. Belle gasped in the heat and looked up.

Cobalt eyes turned to hers and Belle's limbs froze under his stare. The Beast looked down at their clasped bodies. His brow pulled forward and his deep blue gaze darkened as it searched her face. The Beast lifted a finger to touch a tender part of her jaw and Belle hissed slightly at the instant pain.

She turned her face away.

"You're hurt." He huffed, clearly angry.

When Belle didn't respond, the Beast snorted and turned his gaze from her to the clearing. Belle followed his eyes. The wolves were gone. Not only had the living ones wandered off but there were no injured or dead left behind. Belle frowned. _Where were the bodies?_

She closed her eyes. Immediately, the scene from the day before played out behind her lids. Belle shivered. She felt the Beast's arm tighten around her slightly. The instinctual gesture drew her attention and she looked up at him with swimming vision. He met her gaze slowly.

His shaggy fur fell forward into his eyes. Belle saw the gash that stretched from his wide forehead down to the corner of his mouth. He was hurt. The creature had almost died while trying to protect her. It hadn't made sense the night before, and it made less sense in the morning.

Belle pulled away from the warmth of his body. She instantly felt the chill of the snow and frost. Her eyes scanned the soggy ground and she frowned when she noticed large patches of blackened snow. _Blood_. Belle shook her head. Then her gaze traveled to the bloody branch she had swung so successfully.

 _"I could never hurt an animal,"_ she had told Gaston on their awful last meeting. Now she knew better. Looking down at her hand and tracing the cuts along the palm, Belle wondered what her giant friend would think of her now.

"Thank you, for saving my life." The Beast spoke gruffly. His masculine voice in the quiet morning caused Belle to startle and her gaze snapped back to him.

The Beast was trying to stand but had only made it to his knees. His huge body was covered in slashes. His clothes were ripped and torn. Red strips ran down his white shirt front. Belle watched as he struggled to breathe in and out and heard a telling rattle in his throat.

Belle waited a moment and then whispered, "As you saved mine."

She rose slowly. Her feet felt numb as she stood on the dead leaves and icy splotches of mud. Belle frowned. "But why?"

The Beast attempted to growl but the sound halted in his chest. He ran a hand through his heavy mane and grumbled. "Would you r-rather I just let you die?"

"No, of course not." Belle clasped her hands and moved a step closer to him. His neck was exposed. From her point of view, Belle could easily see the crimson slash between his shoulder and neck that still bled.

"Your hurt." She echoed his words back to him. The fact was not lost on the Beast. His massive horns swung up, barely missing Belle. She jumped back slightly. For a second their eyes locked and Belle held her breath. Then he looked back down and she moved another step closer.

"Let me see." She whispered soothingly. Her movements were measured and haulted as she swayed closer to the injured creature. Belle felt her fingers shake as she lifted a single hand and touched the Beasts shoulder.

Instantly, Belle was flung back as the Beast let out an outraged roar. She blinked as drops of water fell from the shivering branches above. The woods trembled.

The girl felt dizzy. Her head spun as the sound rang in her head and she reached a hand into her damp and tangled hair. She shook her head and gazed up at an angry Beast with a palm raised. "Okay, okay."

"That hurt!" The Beast had bellowed at the top of his lungs. Belle watched as he grabbed a handful of snow and began to pack it on the wound.

"No, don't do that." She warned. Belle took a deep gulp of air. When she turned to the creature, she shook her head and stood again. "The snow is filled with mud. Look, I can help you. If you hold still, it won't hurt as bad."

The Beast watched the woman with a furrowed brow and instinctively pulled his shoulder back. "I think not, girl."

"We-we have to stop the bleeding or you will die in these woods," Belle answered back and began to tear a strip of blue clothing from her gown. The ripping sound drew the Beasts attention and Belle placed a firm hand on his arm. "Now, hold still. This might hurt a little."

Belle stood on her toes to reach his shoulder even though he rested on his knees. She took the edge of the cloth and began to wipe out the wound, never looking away from her chore. The Beast growled and sniffed in and out loudly as she worked but he did not push her away again. His shirt began to dampen with a mixture of snow and blood. Belle pushed his collar further away from his neck.

Belle paused in her work and released a sigh before speaking. "You need to remove this."

"This?" The Beast rumbled through clenched teeth.

Belle swallowed and tugged lightly at his drenched sleeve. Her cheeks burned as she spoke the words. "This-your shirt. Just for a moment."

There was silence in the woods following her words and Belle bit her lip. "I can't wrap the wound if I can't reach it. It's your choice."

From her view of his arm, Belle could see him clench his hand and waited. Then suddenly the Beast was in action and removing his tattered blouse. In the early morning light, his pelt shined and lay in swirling waves of gold. The smell of his bloody fur filled her nose and Belle felt her heart leap. It was a lot of blood. His body was covered with cuts, though none were as bad as the one on his neck.

Belle felt his eyes on her as she turned back to her task. Her hands were swift and hardly shook. The Beast did not bellow again.

Soon the work was done and the Beast's shoulder and chest were tightly bound in blue and white cloth. "There," Belle whispered as she finished tieing her last knot. "All done."

Her eyes finally lifted to his. The Beast's expression was veiled. It was as though he was deliberately hiding his thoughts. He suddenly turned and stood. His tattered shirt fell at his feet, forgotten.

The Beast looked around the clearing and reached for Belle's cloak that lay on a damp mound of snow. Then he swiftly placed it around the girl's shoulders and strode away. Belle sighed at the sudden heat. The cloak wasn't even wet from the frost.

Her eyes followed the creature as he disappeared into the trees. A sudden fear came over her as she determined what to do next. She had almost decided to wrap her feet in pieces of his shirt and begin walking when she heard the large Beast return.

He looked very intimidating standing upright. His heavy horns reached up for the trees as his eyes searched for her. Belle felt her gaze going to his bare fur and she shuddered slightly at the feral image.

The Beast was moving toward Belle at an unnatural speed until he stopped mere inches away.

"The way is clear. I am too long away from the castle. We must return." The Beast spoke and reached a hand to Belle. She looked down at his claws and knew he could easily shred her to ribbons. The girl shook her head and looked off into the woods.

"I can't..." Belle began, stepping back.

"There is only death in these woods. Those wolves are merely a part of a larger evil." Belle paused in surprise and stared hard at the creature. He sighed and swung his hand for her to take. His eyes were alert and looking around them for danger. Belle licked her dry lips and nodded. Her tiny hand reached forward and she allowed him to grasp it. In a matter of seconds, he had swept her up into his arms.

"Your shoulder..." Belle protested and moved to climb down. She felt his arms tighten around her as he started to stride through the trees.

"I'm fine. Hold still." The creature demanded as he began to run at dizzying speeds. Belle tucked her head in his chest and closed her eyes until she grew accustomed to the movement.

* * *

It was a long voyage on foot but eventually, the enormous structure came into sight through the trees. As he reached his home, the Beast's grasp on Belle relaxed though his speed remained the same.

The great heavy doors opened as he approached. The Beast strode inside, and Belle felt, as well as heard, his sigh of relief. He moved deftly to the large fire in an empty parlor and placed her gently on a soft chaise, tucking her cloak around her shoulders. He stared at her for a long moment before he left the room.

Alone, Belle laid her head back and gazed into the fire. Her body ached. She looked down and pulled her damp dress up to her knees. There were scratches and teeth marks along her pale calves. Blood had dried in crusty strips from her thigh to her still freezing toes. She wiggled them slightly and was thankful they still had feeling.

Just then a clanging sound rattled down the long and darkened hall that led away from the parlor. Belle's brows shot up and she quickly dropped her dress to cover herself. She listened again. The sound was moving further away.

Belle stood to follow the noise. Rounding the corner and peering down the blackened corridor, she spied the back of someone's head. It was covered in a puffy white cap the Belle recognized instantly.

"Mrs. Potts!" She called and sped up, practically running to the old woman.

At her name, Mrs. Potts turned around and stared openly at the approaching girl. Her tea cart stood forgotten as a confused smile covered her plain face. She looked exactly as Belle remembered.

"Oh, dearie, you're back!" The round woman gasped and placed a shaking hand on her chest.

Belle almost laughed for joy at seeing the older woman again. " _You're_ back as well! I was beginning to think I had spoken to a gh..."

Belle's next words were stopped as another servant came into the hall. The woman was tall and dark haired. Her black uniform clung to her curvaceous form in ways that made Belle blush. The woman's body swayed back and forth as she sauntered around a corner and giggled.

"Oh, you tease me!" The beautiful woman purred over her shoulder to a male servant behind her.

Following on her heels was a lanky blonde man with a wicked smile. He was handsome, if somewhat slim. His long body was clothed in a perfectly starched blue and gold suit and he smelled of powered cologne. The man reached for the maid and grunted.

It took a moment for Belle to be noticed by the pair but then both servants pulled up short and stared at the girl in the hall. The maid covered her mouth and stepped back, gaping at Belle with shocked eyes.

After a second, Belle looked down at herself and shuddered. She must look a sight. Her gown was shredded, her muddy feet, bare. With a self-conscience smile, Belle pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and tucked a wild curl back behind her ear.

"Forgive me. I'm…" She began, only to be interrupted by a gasp from the lovely raven-haired woman.

"She sees us? How is this possible?" The maid fluttered excitedly. She turned her gaze to the handsome man. His face simply lit with a self-satisfied smile. He looked as if he wanted to say something but the whites of his eyes bulged and he took a step back.

"I would like to know the answer to that, as well." A low, brusque voice demanded from behind Belle. She did not need to turn to know the Beast had returned.

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! What are your thoughts on our warm blanket? Write me a note and I'll let you tend the Beast's wounds!

I would like to thank my awesome reviewers, greensarcher, gisela19wwe, PastOneonta, DiizGirlJess, and the return of my first reviewer ever-pinkdynamite! You guys inspire me! Warm regards to all my readers and good luck in your own endeavors! As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! -S.


	25. Chapter 24: Allow Me To Explain

Chapter 24: Allow Me to Explain

The Beast was growing impatient. She could tell by the slow rumble in his chest. His words still rang in her ears though she had yet to look up at his massive face. When he spoke again she barely jumped at his guttural tone.

"We will have our discussion in private."

Belle blinked and saw the expressions on the servants faces change. Then, as if of the same mind, they began to scurry away. The blonde man and the maid who had entered the hall together stood apart from each other and avoided Belle's look. They faded through an open doorway that Belle had not noticed before and did not look back.

Mrs. Potts was no longer gazing at Belle with hopeful anticipation. No, her eyes were turned upward to the face of the Beast. Her expression seemed to caution the creature and Belle was grateful for the kind woman.

Mrs. Potts turned then and reached for Belle's hand to give it a squeeze. She exited the hall with her cart clanking the entire way.

Then Belle was alone again with the monster. It hurt to stand. Her feet and calves were injured and torn. She subtly shifted her weight from one foot to another and moved her eyes to stare at the creature's waist.

The Beast grumbled and then without any further preamble, he lifted Belle into his arms.

She had been held the same way for hours on their way back to the castle yet this time it felt different. Maybe she wasn't as tired, or perhaps her brain had finally caught up with her circumstances, but it felt overwhelming to be held by the Beast again.

Her body was suddenly so fragile, breakable, in his large hands. She stiffened instinctively and felt him withdraw from her. He added distance between them.

His steps were quick and his stride was long. Within a minute he had traveled the length of the castle and stood before a massive gold embossed doorway. Belle sighed softly as he placed her feet on the ground and stepped to the side. With a mighty push, he opened the heavy solid doors. The Beast stepped through and held them open for her to walk in.

"We will not be disturbed in here. The servants do not come in this room unless called upon." The Beast spoke roughly and watched as she moved into the library. "Sit." He ordered and pointed to a chair by a long wooden table.

Belle's eyes adjusted to the darkness as the creature moved around the dusty space to light a fire. After a moment the hearth blazed to life and cast shadows throughout the vast area. As the light spread, Belle let out a gasp.

"What is it?" The Beast asked, as he dropped to all fours and prowled closer to her. Belle watched him focus on the corners of the room for hidden dangers.

"Nothing. I'm sorry. I-I've just never seen so many books in my life. This is amazing! It's almost…"

The Beast had stopped his observations and turned his eyes to Belle. "Yes?" He prodded, equally curious and impatient.

Belle stepped further into the room and stopped before a wall of leather bound books. Her tone dropped to barely a whisper. "Almost miraculous." She finished.

"Miraculous? A library?" The creature turned away from her and went to stand by a heavily curtained window. With a sudden jerk, he moved the cloth. Belle watched as the room flooded with light.

Belle felt her heart start to beat faster as the room expanded before her. Never had she seen so many books. In a lifetime she wouldn't be able to explore them all.

The library was as tall as it was wide, and it reached up six stories. The long winding staircases swept up from the ivory floor and stretched their golden steps to the muraled ceiling. Belle moved her hands to her chest to keep from reaching out.

"It's more than that. This is everything."

In her awestruck state, Belle finally lifted her eyes to his. Instantly the spell was broken. His expression had gone dark and he turned away angrily. Belle felt a chill raise up her arms. She had forgotten who she was with.

"Not everything. I have searched these worthless pages for answers and found nothing." He stomped to a tall stack of books on a long table. "Nothing, but more questions." He growled and swiped his exposed claw back violently, sending the pile flying through the air with a crash.

Belle jumped when the Beast turned his terrible gaze to her with a twist of his razor-sharp horns. "Now _,_ do _you_ have answers?"

"Answers?" Belle breathed, pulling her hair over her shoulder and tugging her cloak tighter about herself. "I don't know what answers you would want from me. I was sent to find the Master of this castle."

"I am he. But I was promised a Savior." The Beast's lips pulled back to expose vicious fangs.

"So far," he stepped forward slowly. His horns pushed forward like a charging bull and his thickly furred chest expanded. "I have been slashed, bitten, and nearly frozen. I have chased you halfway across the wooded mountains. You will explain how you to see my servants and by what means you found this castle. Tell me now, are you the Savior?"

His words made Belle's heart race. She took a small step back to the fire. The heat rose up to caress the bruises on her face. Belle clasped her hands and raised her gaze up to the creature. She spoke her words slowly.

"There was a child in the woods. I was looking for my father. He never returned home from the fair. It started to snow and I took refuge under a tree. It was there that I saw her."

The Beast growled and took a massive stride closer. "A child?" He practically spat out the words.

"Yes. Mon Ange. But she was no ordinary child. She was," Belle paused and rubbed her sore forehead with a shaky palm. He was so close now that she could feel the bristle of his fur on her arm. "She was a child of the Enchanted. I know how this must sound."

Belle frowned as she attempted to read his face. His eyes were no longer furious, instead, the blue had turned almost black and she couldn't decipher their expression.

"Continue." The Beast demanded in a stern voice.

Belle swallowed and leaned on her left leg, relieving the pain in the right. "She was strong. Very strong. Her magic knocked me down like a feather."

The Beast humphed loudly as if to say that such a thing would not be very hard to do. Belle crossed her arms before she continued.

"She warned me of a dark beast and his great pack of wolves who are ravaging the woods and villages. They killed her people. They would kill mine." Her voice shook slightly but she kept her eyes on his.

The Beast's unclothed chest stilled, as though he didn't dare to breathe. "Did she say anything else, girl?"

Belle hesitated then closed her eyes. In her mind, the words rang out as clearly as if the child spoke them again.

"She said 'Never to kneel, never to yield. Never to tame, always the same.' I-I don't know what she meant." Belle paused, conflicted about whether or not to reveal her next words, then she continued.

"And she called me Savior."

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! Well, it's all out now. Or is it? What are your thoughts on this tell-all? Let me know and you might get a tour of the library!

So, as you know, I adore my reviewers. The last chapter not only hit the 100th review ( who, by crazy coincidence, was pinkdynamite, my first reviewer) but exceeded that. I have also reached 100 followers and nearly 29,000 views. I want to thank you so much, readers! I am honored that you have continued with me throughout this story. I hope to hear from my new followers soon! I want to especially thank VictoriaJameson, pinkdynamite, Comical freaka, Petals Open to the Moon (lovely) and my astounding guest reviewers. You are all amazing!

Now, if I can, I want to tell you about a writer that you probably already know. Tek Sonay is one of my favorite authors, not only on this site but on this planet! The way Tek's mind works is always surprising, humorous, and exciting. If you haven't found this work, may I suggest Howl's Love Advice or To Steal a Heart. Both of these are amazing. You will fall in love and no other writing, my own included, will measure up. (But please come back!) Seriously, you can thank me later.

As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/ or favoriting! –S.


	26. Chapter 25: Your Dinner

Chapter 25: Your Dinner

"Mrs. Potts!" The Beast bellowed, forgetting the bell that hung on the wall. Belle's eyes grew wide with surprise but she didn't say a word. The Beast noted that she had not spoken since her shocking admission. _At least she had finally taken a seat._

Mrs. Potts came into the room in a whisk of white skirts.

"Yes, Master?" She asked, breathless in her haste.

The Beast sent her a brief look before turning away. He moved down the long wooden table and sat across from the girl. The seat beneath him cracked under his weight.

"Food, Mrs. Potts." He ordered shortly.

"In here, Master?" The woman asked, gazing around the enormous and disheveled library.

"In here." The Beast confirmed. His heavy tone did not encourage objections.

The servant nodded and moved closer to the girl. The Beast watched as Mrs. Potts held out a hand to help Belle rise. The girl reached forward slowly and sent the older woman a thankful smile.

"You will stay." The creature demanded. Both his servant and the girl jump. "And we _will_ finish our discussion."

Mrs. Potts robust form began to bounce as she pulled her hands together and shook her head. "Oh, Master. She's so filthy and wet. Surely you could excuse her now and let her get cleaned up. I'll have a nice meal sent to her room and she can meet you after."

The Beast had seen that look before. Mrs. Potts words might have sounded like a request but the expression on her motherly face made it clear it was not.

"She will eat with me, or she won't eat at all." He ground through clenched teeth.

To his surprise, Belle stood and turned to Mrs. Potts with a tender smile that the Beast found utterly perplexing. "I am well, Mrs. Potts. I agree with your Master. We have much to discuss."

The girl's smile deepened and through the cloud of long dark ringlets that framed her face, the Beast saw two hidden dimples form on either side of her cheeks.

"Actually, I'm famished!" Belle concluded, laughing softly at her own heated admission.

"Well, of course you are, love." Mrs. Potts agreed with a gentle nod. "Heaven knows what happened in those woods! From the looks of you and the Master, I'd say it was nothing good! I'll go fetch you a lovely meal. You just rest here and talk. I'm sure the Master will take good care of you." The woman sent a sharp look to her Master and turned away, moving to the open doors of the library.

Belle did not return to her seat at the opposite end of the table. She instead turned and walked closer to him. Her steps were slow, either from fear or from pain. Eventually, she was standing beside him. Her hands raised and rested on the back of the high winged chair near his own.

"May I?" The girl asked. Her voice was husky and the Beast felt his brows raise.

He nodded and leaned back, careful to allow her space. The Beast frowned as his acute hearing picked up a slight hitch in her breath when she sat. _Pain_ , he identified instantly and began to reconsider forcing her company. _No_ , he argued silently, _enough time had been wasted._

Belle was silent for a moment and the Beast found himself focusing on her face. He had never truly examined it before _._

He knew she was beautiful. Even the least interested observer would have noticed that. But Belle had a secret quality that was something else entirely. He could almost smell it on her. Her beauty almost seemed to be a mask.

The Beast gazed at her and questioned what was behind the hazel eyes. _What was beyond the angelic smile? Who was this girl?_ He knew instinctively that there was more to her than what was apparent.

"You are not the dark beast I was warned about." The girl spoke plainly.

He watched Belle's hands tighten on the table until the pale flesh became pink. There was a spike of spicy fear in the air that filled his nostrils and caused a predatorial smile to pass his lips.

"How do you know I am not this beast," he asked slowly, letting the deep rumble of his voice flow through his sharp teeth. Belle's breath sped up faintly as he waited for her to respond. For the first time since she sat beside him, the girl looked him in the eyes. She took a moment to answer.

"I've known since the wolves. You were not their master. You fought them. You _hurt_ them. Perhaps you even killed a few."

The Beast watched as she struggled to speak of the recent carnage. It would have been much worse if she had awakened in those woods and seen the _true_ devastation that remained.

* * *

When the Beast awoke his body had been stiff and sore. The damage caused by the wolves to his flesh was extensive. He had groaned as his limbs regained feeling. Then he noticed the girl.

Her body was tucked into his side with her arm flung casually over his waist. He jerked back and moaned. The movement caused a sharp pain to spread over his shoulder and down his back. With a heavy paw, he felt for the spot, only to grasp an unexpected garment in his hands. A long white cloak.

The Beast pulled it over his shoulder and inspected it more closely. The thing belonged to the girl but he could smell another scent on it as well. Something woodsy, like pine. He pulled it to his nose and sniffed again then growled as another aroma filled his snout. A man.

The Beast turned to the girl and shifted away from her but her body twisted instantly and pushed more closely into his fur. He let out a grunt and laid his head back in the snow, trapped.

His eyes wandered around the frozen clearing. The remains of the dead lay in mounds of snow and blackened blood. Many of the corpses wore evidence of his claws, still more the signs of his strength, but there were some he could not claim. There were some slain by a daintier hand.

The Beast turned his gaze to the sky and he watched as the wind brushed the newly bare branches back and forth overhead.

The forest was silent. Very silent.

His fur rose and his arm swung around instantly as he pulled himself up. He shifted the tiny woman beneath him. His eyes searched the shadowed trees and groves.

Within a moment the injured wolves came into view. There were five or more. They had made it to the trees and sat in wait for the Beast to enter. Their long, lean bodies were obviously hurt. He had fought them the night before. Yet they stood, enraged and alert, preparing to entrap their enemy.

The Beast's sore body suddenly became tight again as his muscles readied for an attack. His lips pulled back to flash his ferocious fangs. His growl was low, knew his fur would muffle it for the girl, but the wolves would hear it clearly.

Part of him craved the fight, but the other part knew the girl would be left unprotected if he had to clash with the pack. With his body still pressed over hers, he lifted his horns sharply and dared the wolves to come forward.

A few howls followed, then whimpering filled the wooded clearing. The wolves began to back away again. He could smell their panic. His gaze turned, examining every black shadow for red eyes. They had retreated, leaving their frozen and bloody dead behind them.

The Beast waited for his breathing to slow and his heart to return to normal before he looked down at the girl.

Her blood had dried in patches on her forehead. Long scratches ran down her cheek. The deep blue hollows beneath her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.

She had fought for him, covered him, and by evidence of the long branch that lay by her side, had tried to protect him through his sleep.

The least he could do was keep her from the sight of what they had done.

With much effort, he retracted his claws. His paws felt heavy as he lifted the girl off the ground. She moaned softly and pressed herself into him. The Beast frowned. She would awaken if he started carrying her.

He reached for her ivory cloak and cradled it around her to carefully. Then he laid her on the soft snow. As his body adjusted to standing, he absently tucked her bare feet in the folds of the cloak. They were freezing. She would be lucky if she could keep her toes.

The Beast turned then to his objective. The wolves' bodies were stiff as he lifted them and placed them in the clearing behind the trees. Their frostbitten fur spiked into the Beast's arms and he growled under his breath. He watched the girl over his shoulder as she slept.

The chore took effort and strength. By the time the Beast had moved the last wolf, he was exhausted and bleeding again. He dove his paws into the white snow to clean them. Then, with a huff, the Beast fell to his knees beside the girl.

Her teeth were chattering slightly and her face had a bluish tint. With only a moments hesitation, she was pulled into the warmth of his body. Belle felt small in his arms and he was careful not to crush her. He was almost afraid to close his eyes. Then he felt her face nestle into his shredded shirt front and heard her sigh. In an instant, the monster drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Perhaps." The Beast answered quietly and waited for her to continue.

"You called me Savior. So did the child. I don't think, or, well, I don't know how I could save anything or anyone. I am simply here to warn the Master of this castle of a threat." The girl was nervous again. The Beast watched as she slipped a hand into her hair and began rubbing her sore flesh.

"You have told me," He responded absently.

The girl bit her lip and lifted worried eyes to the giant brute. Her questions were measured before she spoke. "Where is the Prince? In the dungeons?"

The Beast laughed darkly. He looked at the frightened girl. Her face was solemn and her lips were pressed together.

He turned his head and mumbled beneath his breath. "There is no Prince in this castle."

Silence followed. It seemed like it would last forever. Then, over his shoulder he heard the girl exhale a shaky breath and ask, "Who are you?"

The Beast paused. His mind flickered over his many titles. Prince Adam, His Majesty, Highness. No, he was none of those things now.

Now he was simply, "Beast."

His voice sounded rough when he said the name out loud. He looked at the tiny woman with hooded eyes. Her hazel gaze met his and a small crease formed between her brows. For a moment it was as if she could see into his thoughts, his past. Those eyes, almond shaped and curious, seemed to search his soul.

Then the moment passed and a sound from the doorway caused them both to turn.

Mrs. Potts had returned with five other maids. Each of the women pushed carts loaded with food and drink. The girl gave an audible gasp and the Beast found himself distracted by her excited hunger.

"Here you are, dearie. Nourishment." The housekeeper spoke lightly as she went about clearing the table and spreading a long silken cloth above it. Almost instantly the meal was set out.

The table lay covered in silver and crystal. Potatoes, soups, roasted chicken and whole sides of beef filled the empty space. Thin porcelain plates were filled from heavy platters of cheese and fruit. Crispy brown bread slathered in butter was placed by a crystal bowl of creamy white stew.

The Beast watched as Belle whispered "Thank you," to a slim, blonde-haired table server. The servant filled her glass with champagne and dragon juice.

He turned to his own meal and frowned when he found rare steak on an oblong platter. Before he could protest the cooking of the beef, he heard his housekeeper addressing the other servants.

"Leave the rest on the carts. The Master and his guest will have dessert as it pleases them."

There was a unanimous curtsy from the servers before they turned in a perfect line and left the room. The Beast picked up their hushed whispers as they reached the hallway.

"Oh, my!" Exclaimed one, breathlessly.

"Do _you_ think she looks like a witch?" Another asked, possibly the brown eyed maid, Lottie.

"I have never seen one." Responded another.

"Did you see her hair?"

"And dress?" Two other women spoke almost simultaneously, giggling.

The breathless girl laughed again and began to describe the state of Belle's appearance in detail. The Beast was no longer interested and turned back to his plate. He began to eat with vigor.

"Mademoiselle, may I take your cloak?" He heard over the crunching of his meal. The words of Mrs. Potts barely registered as the Beast swallowed the tasteless cooked meat.

"Thank you, yes. I am rather warm." Belle's soft voice drifted to his ears and he looked over casually and watched as she removed the white fabric from around her shoulders. His nose twitched as that faint woodsy man smell lifted to the air. He growledto himself absently.

A sharp intake of breath drew his attention to the women in his company.

Mrs. Potts stood holding the cloak in one hand. She was poised to draw it closer, but she did not. Instead, she stared at the girl before her in surprise.

Belle had lost all color in her face. Her eyes were widened in shock. She blinked several times and took a shaky breath. Then her expression changed and she stood up. She reached out to a perplexed Mrs. Potts but did not touch her.

Suddenly, she turned her brilliant eyes to the Beast and flashed him a breathtaking smile.

"Well, _that_ explains it!"

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney Co.**

Hello, readers! Have you figured it out yet, you clever people? Let me know and we can toast with champagne and dragon juice!

I would like to thank PastOneonta, Lady in Black 22, squishmich, Comical freaka, Tek Sonay, Any, pinkdynamite, and of course my lovely guest reviewers. As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! – S.


	27. Chapter 26: Out of Those Books

Chapter 26: Out of Those Books

"Explain." The creature ordered, looking at Belle with steely eyes. He still sat, but his large body was pulled forward across the table. It was taut as if ready to act.

Belle's bit her lip, still smiling. She took a step closer to where she thought Mrs. Potts stood. Her hand reached forward and her fingers grasped the cloak.

"Mrs. Potts, would you please hand me my cloak?" She asked lightly and waited for the cloth to be placed in her hands. Then, with a swift movement, she placed the lovely white garment around her shoulders. Belle looked back at the servant who instantly became visible again. She laughed lightly and moved forward to take the old woman's hand.

"There you are!" She breathed.

"My word, dearie. Have you ever heard of such a thing?" The woman asked, completely shocked. Her fingers tightened around Belle's hand and held on for dear life. Belle shook her head. She turned her face to the silent Beast.

He was as motionless as a statue. His face was a stoic mask. Belle felt her smile fade as she waited for him to respond. Mrs. Potts was not so silent. She turned to the Beast with a watery smile and nodded.

"See now, Master, our Savior is here at last!" She spoke in an awed whisper. Then the tiny maid let go of Belle's hand and gave her a deep curtsy. "I'll leave you to your meal and planning."

She was out of the door a moment later, leaving a silent Beast and Belle behind her.

Belle smiled after the woman and began to pull the heavy cloak from her shoulders. She folded it carefully before laying it on the back of a wing-backed chair.

The sound of the Beast's gruff voice broke the silence. "Where did you get that cloak?"

Belle swallowed and moved back to her seat. She held her back straight as she sat, hardly giving any sign of exhaustion or trepidation.

"A friend. An old friend. He-," Belle paused and frowned as the Beast's heavy brow furrowed, "he gave it to me as a gift."

"And where did he acquire such a gift?" The Beast persisted, rising slowly. His terrible paws flattened on the table as he glared at her.

Belle felt her lips go dry at his expression and reached for her cool glass of champagne and dragon juice. The mixture was sweet on her tongue and the bubbles tickled her throat. She swallowed deeply before she lifted her eyes back to the stern looking creature and answered.

"Gaston is a hunter. His wares are the most sought after in the land." Belle clarified. She watched as the Beast's expression became even more hooded.

"I see."

"But it was Mon Ange who enchanted it, in the forest. Somehow she made it so that whenever it is on my body, I can see your people when I assume others cannot." Belle answered quickly. Her hazel eyes darted away from the Beast and watched as the bubbles floated to the top of her glass.

"Continue, girl" He ordered. His voice was a clipped snap.

Belle squared her shoulders at his tone but nodded. "Of course. I met the child on my travels, as you already know. At first, she appeared to be a lost little girl. I offered her my cloak and placed her on my horse. I—I searched the trees for her family, but I saw no one."

Belle's eyes focused on the memory and she blinked several times in wonder. A part of her still could not believe the path her journey had taken. She spoke again with a sigh. "There was nobody to see. She was not an ordinary child. She was an enchantress."

Belle paused again and lightly began to pull the crust off of a roll of soft bread by her plate. Her delicate fingers plucked as her mind drifted back.

"Savior…" The Beast's impatient rumble invaded her thoughts.

Belle shook her head and focused again on his face. "I have told you the rest. She sent me here. But, before she left me, she thanked me for my help and gave me a gift. My cloak. She transformed it, in a way."

"In what why?"

"I'm not entirely certain. It lifted into the air, as though it were weightless, and changed its color, it's _material_. Then it disappeared and when it returned she handed me the cloth and it was warm. It is _still_ warm when it is around your body. That's why…" Belle stopped suddenly and felt her face turning a soft shade of pink.

The Beast watched her with open curiosity before his own expression seemed to lighten with understanding.

"That is why I found the cloak on my shoulder in the woods. You tried to warm me with the magic." His eyes had widened with the knowledge before tightening with suspicion. "Why?"

"Does it matter?" Belle asked, moving to stand. Her chest tightened as she thought back to her time in the woods. She felt the fear trickle back down her spine and she turned before the creature could see it shining in her eyes. Belle's torn and damp gown slapped against her legs as she strode to the books that lined the wall. Her hands casually touched the titles.

The Beast crossed his arms over his massive chest. "Yes. I think it does, Savior." He answered in a deep and dark baritone.

Belle turned at his words and forced a dismissive smile. "You saved me, Beast. It was the least I could do."

Her admission seemed to silence the Beast. Belle swallowed and looked away. Soon, she found her gaze lifting to the volumes shelved beneath fingertips.

"'Wayward Worlds' " she spoke the title out loud. "I read this as a child. I learned most of the lore on the Enchanted from this." She whispered to herself, though she knew instinctively the Beast would be able to hear her.

"'The Wars du Mal, Volumes I and II.'" She carefully grazed the books as she read the words. "I have never seen the second texts. It was not available in my village. May I?" She asked quietly, turning to the Master of the castle.

The Beast nodded tightly. Belle grasped the weathered pages and heaved the heavy book onto her arms. Her breath caught as the ancient leather binding scraped against a deep scratch that had just begun to heal.

She was surprised when the Beast lifted it from her hands and place it on a nearby table, one still stacked with books.

"Thank you." Belle breathed and walked up to the volume with large, excited eyes. Her fingers grasped open the book and she began to turn the aged pages. She drank the words like water.

"I didn't know h _e_ was at the forging of the Sword of Maleknock, but of course it makes sense." Belle mumbled to herself. She bent over the pages and ran her fingers across the words.

"They say it was cast in purple fire. Like those that blaze in Haven's Hilt. But if h _e_ was there, why would he let it be taken? I wonder…" Belle trailed off and flipped to the middle of the book. "Mmm, still not very clear, but if I had the original Cremdion transcripts…"

"They are kept behind glass. Away from the common observer." The Beast answered, his close voice causing her to jump. Belle had almost forgotten he was present.

Then his words began to sink in. _Common_ observer. Her skin began to heat. Belle slowly closed the book and ran her hands down her dirty dress front. As a commoner, she should not even be allowed into the library, much less touch its forbidden volumes.

She was surprised at the Beast's next words. "You need to rest now. You have barely eaten."

Belle nodded and took a step away from the book on the table.

"I will have my servants bring the food and books to your room. Is there any other text you require, Savior? I believe there is something to do with mystic creatures in 'Savage Fauna,' though it has been many years since I have read it."

Belle was silent for a moment and simply stared at the creature. She bit down on her lip and walked to the full shelves. "Do you have "'Corilinda: A Fairy Tale'? I always thought there was more to that story. It tells a complete history of the Enchanted court."

The Beast looked over at a corner of the library where a great wooden door stood. He took a step in that direction then seemed to change his mind.

"I will look and send you word." The Beast answered. Then he turned and strode to the doorway.

With a pull of a string by the gold embossed wall, he called for the servants to return. Belle placed the long fox-lined cloak around her shoulders and turned when they entered. When the two beautiful maids arrived they curtsied low to their master and ignored Belle.

"Attend to my guest. Have warm water sent to her room. Send Mrs. Potts word I will speak with her."

The maids did not answer, but kept their eyes down and curtsied again. Then they turned to Belle with empty expressions.

"Hello." She mumbled to them shyly and turned back to the Beast. She didn't speak, her thoughts were too distracted for words, but she nodded to the giant horned creature before she moved away. She had taken several steps after the girls when she heard his deep voice follow behind her.

"Savior." Belle turned with a frown and almost bumped into the enormous Beast.

"Yes?" She asked slowly, raising a hand to her breast.

"Sleep." His voice ordered darkly.

The Beast caught her eyes and held them. Belle felt oddly breathless. She felt her hand clench around the folds of her cloak front as she nodded. Then she turned and followed after the maids, leaving the Beast behind her.

 **A.N. All characters to Walt Disney**

Hello readers! Did you figure it out beforehand, clever readers, or was it a surprise? Let me know, it's fun to brag!

I would like to thank those of you who have reviewed, especially TheresaGreenie, WildChildALR, Bookloverdream, PastOneonta, Tek Sonay, gixpezz, pinkdynamite, Comical freaka, OfLoveAndChocolate, teebug, gisela19wwe, BlueStarFire, Any, and my lovely guest reviewers! You are all better than coffee! As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting. –S.


	28. Chapter 27: It's a Quiet Village

Chapter 27: A Quiet Village

Many days had passed. Gaston counted twelve at least, but there was no telling how many it was outside the forest. The hunter had not wasted the time. After his first night in the camp, he had been in constant motion. With Lefou by his side, Gaston searched the far reaches of the woods, as far it would _let_ him.

The frozen forest seemed to be at once limitless and finite. Outside of the camp, there was no tree he saw more than once, and yet he knew he did not travel far. It was a continuous frosty loop of trees and thickets and no matter how far he wandered by day, without fail or intention, he always returned to the camp by night.

After two or three times out, he and Lefou were no longer alone. The Men of the Vines, as he began to mentally refer to them, roamed with them.

At first, it was the youngest, Charles.

The lanky lad trailed after Gaston wherever he went. The hunter ignored it in the beginning until it was so painfully obvious that it had to be addressed.

"If you are planning on killing me, you will have to be quieter than that, boy." He had called lightly, toying with the blade at his side.

The curly-headed young man jumped up from behind the tree where he hid and raised his palms.

"No, sir. I wasn't planning on killing nobody, erm, anybody." He muttered in a tell-tale squeaky voice.

Gaston frowned and glanced at Lefou with a raised brow. "Do we believe the lad, Lefou? Or should we skewer the pup?"

Lefou, always wise to Gaston's games, turned back and stared at Charles with menacing eyes. Then, with all the intimidation the little man could muster, he sauntered forward and circled the boy.

"He's too scrawny to skewer. All skin 'n bones."

"Hmm." Gaston nodded and moved closer to get his own look at the youth. When his gaze traveled down to a scabbed-over wound on his arm, he smiled darkly. "It looks like I've already tried. That will teach you to lurk in the trees, boy."

Lefou gave a husky snicker and stepped back. "Yeah, better get your ma to wrap that, before it falls off!"

At his words, Charles' face fell and he turned quickly away, marching back to the rope ladder that led to his home. Lefou let loose a low rumble and shrugged good-naturedly. "Somethin' I said?"

"Yes, I fear it was." The inventor spoke softly as he made his way to where the two men stood. "Charles is a little sensitive about his mother, from what I can tell."

Lefou shrugged again and turned to continue filling his bag with salted pork and nuts for their travels.

Gaston looked down at Maurice and crossed his arms. "Better for him to toughen up now. There are worse things in the world than Lefou's bad jokes." Then he swung his own bag up on Barron's back and muttered. "Though not many."

"That may be true, Gaston. But the young man has been in these woods longer than I." Maurice turned and walked back to a shadowed corner of his tree. "And I fear there is more to his story than either of us knows."

Gaston pondered over Maurice's words that day. If the lad had been in the forest for that long, perhaps he might have a greater knowledge of the obvious spell it was under.

When he returned to camp that evening after a frustratingly useless journey, it was Gaston's turn to seek out Charles.

He found the youth in a clearing, sitting on a long and twisted root. The cold wind battered against the boy's face, causing it to redden, but he did not seem to notice the chill.

"We brought back dinner. Are you not hungry for berries and bird?" Gaston grinned down at him.

Charles jumped at the booming voice from above him and shook his head. His short, tangled curls bounced at the action, making the young man look even younger.

"How old are you, Charles?" Gaston inquired lightly.

Sitting up at to his full height, the boy spoke in a slightly deeper voice. "Fourteen. I'm pretty sure."

Gaston leaned back on a nearby tree and nodded. He expected as much. "And how long have you been within these trees?"

Charles looked away and kicked at a nearby chunk of frozen slush. "'Bout five years, I guess."

Gaston stood up sharply at the boy's words. "Five years, wandering these woods?"

A startled Charles looked over at him and nodded. "I think so. Was never much good at counting. Mama used to say I had a mind for words, not numbers."

Gaston sat down beside him and shook his head in disbelief. With a low curse, he stared at the kid with new eyes. _He had been lost for years, and yet, survived._ "How did it happen, Charles?"

Charles bit his lower lip and ran a thin hand through his mess of curls. It took him a while to talk, but Gaston waited silently, patiently, for the boy.

"I was looking for my Ma. She's a maid at the castle. She works real hard so I could go to school. I didn't see her much. Spent most my time with my Papa. But she came home one day a week to check on me and Pa and make sure we was doing okay. Then she just stopped coming. Same thing happened to most of us, really. Lots of us were missing people who worked in the castle. Lots of us come looking for them. But anyway, that's what I did too. My Pa got sick and didn't get better. My Ma never came home. After I lost him," Charles paused and began pulling his long curls over his eyes.

Gaston thoughtfully ignored the younger man's tears and looked at the brittle grass that poked out of the softening snow. Charles cleared his throat loudly and continued in a huskier voice. "Af-after Pa passed, I left school and went to find my Ma. I never got to the castle."

Gaston felt his chest tighten for the boy. _Five years trapped in this godforsaken forest!_ He thought, outraged. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and nodded.

"Well, tomorrow you come with me. Let's get you to that castle, Charles."

The boy smiled a watery grin at the hunter and nodded before standing and wiping at his damp pants. "Thanks, um…"

"Gaston." Gaston supplied, standing as well.

"Thanks, Gaston. I think I'm ready to eat now. Berries and, uh, birds." He grinned again and started walking away before pausing and looking back at the enormous man behind him. "By the way, I hate the name Charles, you can call me Chip, like my Pa." Then the young man turned and headed straight for the leftover food.

Gaston watched him go and went to his bedroll by the fire. He had a lot to think about and some planning to do. If his hunch was right, and he was almost positive it was, he would need all his wits and strength to meet what was to come.

By morning the boy was ready to go. He proved to be a helpful, if talkative, companion. Even Lefou grew to appreciate Chip's knowledge of the wildlife of the woods.

As he spoke on their first outing, many things became clear.

First, it was always winter in the woods. He had not seen a summer since before his father died.

Second, there was plenty of game within the trees, but most of the men only knew how to trap, not hunt, hence the haggard appearance of the group.

Third, there was something prowling the woods at night. Chip didn't like to speak of it, but something came as the men slept and ransacked the camp and destroyed any unprotected belongings. One of the men even had a horse that was dismembered after a terrible night on the ground. Chip could still hear its screams, he said, in his dreams.

After the first ride or so, others began to join them, leaving only Maurice and the stubborn Orang, Jasper, to watch the camp. Gaston was not sure how he felt about so much company, but more eyes were better than none.

When the men asked what they were looking for, Gaston surprised them with his answer.

Light.

* * *

The fire flamed long after the men had wandered to their beds. Gaston stared into the sparks, absently sharpening an arrow into a deadly point. He was deceptively alert to every sound in the darkened woods. The night animals fluttered overhead and scurried underfoot. The hunter listened. The breathing of the men within their high dwellings drifted down to his ears. He counted them, still cautious of their whereabouts at all times.

The men were no match for him physically. Most seemed barely able to carry themselves, much less a weapon, so thin and scrawny were their frames. Gaston frowned as he recalled their gaunt, pitiful faces. They were the faces of men who were without hope. Gaston shook his head and stood, tossing his arrow violently into the frozen dirt.

 _It didn't make sense._ He thought for the hundredth time. If he had not seen the evidence for himself, he wouldn't believe it at all. But there was no denying the incredible change in the inventor, or the eyes of the Men of the Vines. Or Chip.

Gaston let his gaze drift into the shadows around him and knew that the most compelling truth was what he alone could feel as he looked out into the trees. The burning heat, the electric flare that made the hair on his arms rise. The forest was under the curse of the Enchantress.

Looking back, he had known for a while. As he and Lefou led their horses around in circles, he knew something was wrong. He felt it in his gut. He was never lost. His inner direction was flawless. And yet…and yet the instinct that he relied upon lied to him. Every turn proved false, every step, a misstep.

Gaston moved closer to the trees and watched as the cold breeze lifted the branches and rattled the crystal icicles that hung from them.

His body jolted as his eyes pulled tight and he peered deeper, noticing a small light beyond. After taking a determined step toward it, he suddenly stopped. He was no longer alone. There were now only five people breathing overhead and he waited for the other to step into view.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He asked over his shoulder.

"Shouldn't you?" The inventor responded before bending and warming himself by the fire. "Besides, age does not allow for sleep the way youth does. Old men prefer to rest sitting up at meals or during long, boring conversations. There is no easier way to escape a gossip, than with slumber."

Gaston smirked and nodded. "I will keep that in mind." When he looked back into the trees the light was gone. With a grunt, he turned and strode to the fire and Belle's father.

With long-practiced skill, the hunter added more logs to the fire and shifted the embers to release the warmth onto the fragile old man.

"Thank you, son," Maurice muttered, rubbing his hands over the traveling heat. "I never could control a fire. Something to do with absentmindedness, I suppose. It would always either flare or die." The man gave a small laugh and shook his head. "Belle would always tend them at home. Such a helpful girl. Though there was this one time when she was reading…"

"Yes?" Gaston encouraged, instantly knowing that what was to follow would be the story Belle referred to during her refusal. He felt a sharp stab to the heart, but a part of him needed Maurice to continue.

There must have been something in his tone that caused the old inventor to turn to him with large, sad eyes. It took him a minute to speak again.

"Belle was reading one of her mysteries. I'm sure you remember the one, she didn't put it down for six months. About some sword or another?"

"I know the one." Gaston laughed deeply and shook his head. "Heavy thing. Not the best book to get thrown at your head, if I recall it right. Though I'm sure I deserved it."

Maurice let out a rusty laugh and nodded. "I'm sure you did. Well, she was certain she was going to find the old relic's location in that book and read those pages over and over again. I'm sure she bathed with it, though she'd kill me if she knew I mentioned it!"

"She would." Gaston agreed, hiding his grin behind his palm as he rubbed his jaw with calloused fingers.

"Ah well. Anyway, I came home one day from town to find the cottage filled with smoke. It was billowing out the windows and fireplace in heavy black clouds. I was sure something I created had exploded. I rushed inside, searching for my girl, and what do I find? Belle. Sitting on the back porch, book in hand, pouring water over what was left of my clothes. Apparently, she thought it was stew and had added fat to the pot. The new soap I had been experimenting with reacted instantly, bubbling into the fire and sending flames and smoke throughout the room."

"I remember that day. I rushed over with my father and the other men of the village. We were told you had a mishap in your lab."

The old man shrugged and grinned knowingly.

Gaston shook his head and stared into the fire. Then his smile slowly faded and he looked up at Maurice over the flames. "I asked her to marry me, you know."

The inventor leaned back in silence, letting his eyes wander across Gaston's face. "I know son. I'm sorry."

Gaston didn't ask how he knew, or how he guessed her answer. He simply nodded and reached for another arrow to sharpen.

For a moment neither of them spoke and the crackling of the embers were the only sounds in the camp. Then Gaston began to scrap against the arrow with his silver dagger in long, powerful strips.

"I will get you back to her, Maurice." He promised quietly. An hour later the old man went back to bed, and the hunter went into the woods.

 **A.N All rights belong to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! Oh poor Chip! How do you feel about this new band of brothers? Are you interested in reading more about them?Let me know your thoughts and maybe you can sit by the firelight with Gaston!

I want to thank my amazing reviewers, especially MostEvilIceQueen, squishmich, oruanhighlover7, the always constant PastOneonta, pinkdynamite, FantasyActionRomanceGirlCraze, TrudiRose! (I love your work!) venimeux, rawrsharpii, and the amazing Tek Sonay, also my guest reviewers and those of you who help me through PM. You are all brilliant! As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and/or favoriting!-S.


	29. Chapter 28: Enchantress

Chapter 28: Enchantress

She felt his approach. The Hunter's presence radiated a unique heat in the frosted night. Though he was silent in his steps, the Enchantress awaited his arrival with tranquil anticipation.

Gaston's large figure rounded the thick rooted trees. His steady feet maneuvered through the brush easily. He slowed his pace when she came into view but he did not pause in surprise. Gaston had sensed _her_ as well.

The Enchantress stood in the clearing by the water. Her golden light glowed in the blackened forest and the Hunter stared at her as he advanced. He was deceptively silent. His powerful body strained against his clothes as though his muscles had swelled beyond their capacity to hold him. He looked almost feral as he stalked forward in the darkness.

"An honor, Hunter." The lovely woman whispered. Her smooth voice drifted through the silver branches and echoed slightly.

She felt his anger. She saw it move off his fur and leather-clad body in hazy waves. The Enchantress smiled and inclined her head in a gentle bow.

Gaston's eyes tightened at the gesture. When he was close enough for his voice to reach her, he spoke in a tone laced with controlled venom. It stabbed at the air like velvet steel.

"I don't doubt that."

The Enchantress ignored his words and looked out over the moon-tipped lake and the snow-topped peaks beyond it.

"A beautiful night for a walk. Are you enjoying the mountains, Hunter?"

As though to demonstrate her words, the sterling water began to ripple with half frozen waves and a soft shower of dew drizzled down from the trees. The wind blew cold mist into the clearing and it softly kissed their skin and hair.

The great man had finally come to a stop, not an arm's length away from the magical creature. If he wanted to, he could reach out a hand and brush her with his fingertips. He did not. Instead, the hunter simply stared at the golden woman in silence. His large dark eyes bore into hers and the forest grew quiet behind him.

"They have lost their appeal." Gaston sneered. The Enchantress watched him drop his heavy bag to the ground. His bow beat against the side of his hip and he straightened it with a shrug of the shoulder.

"That is unfortunate. Perhaps with time…" She waved dismissively.

His aura was turning orange and she marveled at his irritation. And he _was_ irritated. And furious. And determined. The Hunter was practically pulsating with impatience. She let out a gentle sigh and turned her back on the obnoxious human. Then he touched her.

When he reached for her turning shoulder Mon Ange felt a slight shock as his emotions transferred to her. The action was surprising and unpleasant. Without a second thought, the Enchantress raised a hand and knocked the mighty brute back. She almost sent him to the icy ground.

She watched as he locked his body and absorbed the hit, not allowing himself to fall. His piercing eyes searched hers in unmasked fury. Then the Hunter dropped his head. His long dark hair twisted in the wind and he raised his gaze to hers. She was surprised to see contrition in his eyes.

"I shouldn't have done that." Gaston admitted through clenched teeth and in a voice that was strangely breathless.

The Enchantress did not respond. Her chin lifted slightly and she raised an indignant brow.

"Obviously." He finished with a self-mocking scoff, shaking his head and rubbing at his chest with a closed fist.

The Enchantress examined him. The hit had wounded his body slightly, but he would recover soon. The Hunter was resilient, strong, and not easily injured.

The perfect soldier.

That was the reason his image had come to her to all those nights ago, as she appealed to the essence of her people for help. _His_ face, along with the Beast, the Savior, the Inventor, and the Smith, had all been revealed to her by the grace of The Enchanted.

His name was whispered in her ears on the wind _. Gaston, the Hunter._ She had been so sure.

And it was he that she dreamt about on her journey so often. His dreams filled her nights. His thoughts crept into her mind. His heartbreak into her heart. _Gaston the Hunter,_ the wind breathed. _Gaston the Hunter_ , it urged her.

After her first meeting with the boorish human, she had doubted her own visions. She doubted her power. But mostly she doubted the enormous, mulish man that stood before her. Could such a creature, so consumed with his own conceit, ever truly give of himself for the welfare of others? She did not believe it could be so. Her very spirit, her divinity, revolted at the thought.

But she trusted. She watched. She _still_ watched.

"I would suggest, Hunter, that you do not attempt such a thing again." She advised, twisting her body away from him and running a slow palm down the length of her staff. She eyed him suspiciously for a moment.

Gaston gave a short nod and knelt to the ground to dig through his bag. The Enchantress watched as he pulled out a lambskin pouch and took a deep gulp of water. His eyes followed her. After he finished his drink, he swiped a hand across his mouth, dropped the empty container, and stood.

"We need to talk." He spoke after a moment. His voice had regained its strength. The Enchantress pulled together her lips in a tight bow and waited for him to continue.

The man swore under his breath and went on. "I know you cursed these woods. The men here were trapped by _your_ magic." He practically spat. "What I don't know is _why_?"

The Enchantress said nothing but her eyes grew brighter.

Gaston ran an impatient hand through his hair and shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. Some of these people are weak. An old man. A child. Why? What damned reason do you have for locking them in this frozen hell for years?"

His anger was rising and his aura changed from orange to red. The Enchantress felt his heat grow and reach out to her. The grip on her metal staff tightened and she gave a small shake of her head. Her magnificent blonde curls swayed softly, reflecting the light in their shiny strands.

"Am I to believe that you care for such people?" She asked in obvious disbelief.

Gaston did not answer. His hands tightened on his arms and he rocked back on his weathered boots in silence.

"Why do you question me, Hunter?"

The man released his hands and gazed at her with an intense stare.

"I want you to end this." He answered slowly and moved toward her glorious light. A curious smile spread across his handsome face. "And I'm willing to make you a deal."

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter from a new point of view! What are your thoughts on the interaction between Gaston and the Enchantress? Let me know and maybe we can go on a moonlit stroll.

I am so excited to welcome so many new readers to this story. Hello all, I can't wait to hear from you! I want to thank those of you who have written me, especially squishmich, VictoriaJameson, Amegwee, pinkdynamite, PeachMuffin, PastOneonta,Child of Dreams and my lovely guest reviewers! You are all everything that makes the world good and beautiful! As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting! -S.

P.S. I have had some Private Messagers that have wondered where the Gaston/Belle/Beast story is headed, and I can't say-that would be telling! But I will tell you that I have a definite plan! So never fear! They are in good hands. If you have any questions, please feel free to review or PM me. I love to hear your thoughts and critiques!


	30. Chapter 29: A Pity and a Sin

Chapter 29: A Pity and a Sin

Belle was surrounded. The books lay open wide across every surface of her expansive mattress. Her fingers flew quickly as her mind raced and her eyes darted across the faded words. Her body was exhausted. With a small sigh, she stretched her legs out straight and flexed her bandaged feet. Her stomach growled and she rubbed a hand over the flat of it before dismissing the idea of food or drink.

 _The answers were all so close._ She thought.

 _So close_.

Neither sleep nor hunger would stop her...

* * *

"You cannot be comfortable."

The voice was a deep velvet rumble that rolled around in her head and made Belle sigh even before she opened her eyes.

"Savior." It demanded roughly and Belle frowned as she slowly peeked through her eyelids.

The light was behind him and he cast a massive shadow throughout the room. Belle's heart jumped at the sight of him.

Belle pushed her hair from her face. She moved to sit up before realizing that she was already in a seated position. The heavy books were stacked high against her and her upper body felt stiff as she pushed herself off of them. The leather covers stuck to the skin of her arm.

"I'm fine." Belle mumbled and rubbed at a particularly unpleasant crease on her cheek. "I must have dozed off for a moment." She answered sounding dazed and drowsy.

"Obviously. The maids could not awaken you."

"Really?" Belle's eyes widened in embarrassment.

"Really." The Beast responded in a dry tone. Belle watched as he crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands within the dips of his elbows. Her lips and throat felt dry and she swallowed twice.

The room fell silent for a moment. The Beast turned and growled over his shoulder.

"Eat." He nodded his heavy horns to a full tray by the bed before he continued. "Then meet me in the library. I have found more books for you."

With his orders given, he was gone. A rumpled and weary Belle simply stared at the closed door behind him. It was a full minute before she moved. Part of her wanted to lay back and refuse _._

"Eat." She crossed her arms and did her best Beast impersonation.

The Beast was so ill-mannered he made Gaston look like a prince. Belle frowned and bit her lip at the memory of her friend. She pushed the thought of him as far from her mind as she had ever been able to, which was never a very great distance. Then, she stood and stretched her aching arms above her head. Every inch of her body resisted movement. Her muscles creaked and her bones cracked.

But the smell of tea and cakes wafted to her nose and beckoned her closer. The tray was beautiful and Belle wrapped her fingers around a delicately painted teacup. The amber liquid ran down her throat and filled her belly with warmth. The first smile of the day played on the corners of her lips.

* * *

The Beast greeted her with a frown when she arrived in the library not twenty minutes after he awakened her. His head popped up as she approached and a slight growl escaped his lips. He strode toward her, obviously irritated, and snatched the bulky books from her arms.

"The servants will do the lifting while you remain in the castle, Savior." He snapped and plopped them on the same table that had held their dinner the night before.

"I don't mind…" Belle began, running her newly empty hands down her borrowed red dress. The color was a dramatic contrast to the cloak that lay across her arm and was not something she had worn before. The crimson gown swept her arms and kissed her pale shoulders with lace. It cinched at the waist and petaled out delicately to her toes like a rose.

The Beast cut off her words with a look and motioned for her to sit in the same seat she had chosen for their meal.

"I assume you ate?" He asked as she took her place. Belle nodded. Before she could speak he continued. "Good. At least you obeyed in that"

Belle stared at the Beast for a moment, too stunned to speak. When she finally began to form words, the creature cut her off.

"Did you discover something useful during your defiance?"

" _De_ fi…" Belle trailed off and raised a brow. "Beast, I did not obey, nor did I disobey you. I simply did what I felt compelled to do."

The Beast did not answer and Belle almost laughed at the perplexed expression from the creature. His face was pulled tight with his lips tucked over his fangs. He appeared genuinely displeased and confused.

After a moment she decided to take pity on him and spoke again. "I did find some interesting facts in my studies…"

"Tell me." The Beast demanded immediately, taking a step closer to Belle. His bright blue eyes glowed as he stood to wait.

He looked different by the morning light. His fur seemed somewhat tamed. The white and gold coat that covered his chest gleamed in the light from the open window. Belle wondered absently if he still wore her bandages underneath.

Belle paused only briefly before nodding and reaching for a book that lay on top of her returned stack. She cracked it open and began to fan through the pages. When she finally stopped she turned her eyes up to the Beast and pointed.

"Here, in the second paragraph." She announced, flicking her eyes away from to the Beast to the page. "See, it tells of the Enchanted. Not in great detail," she shrugged her with a sigh, "but it speaks of their strengths and weaknesses."

"So." The Beast growled low. His body had come nearer and Belle jerked slightly at the close sound of his voice. The movement did not go unnoticed.

"Um," Belle bit her lip and focused on the ancient book before her, "well, if we know their weaknesses, and we know that the dark beast defeated them, we can assume that those might be attributes that the dark beast possesses." Belle paused again and cast her eyes up to the Beast.

His face was close and he was staring at the pages in her hand. Belle saw him reach for them. She sat back in what she hoped appeared to be a subtle change of position.

If he saw, he did not say.

" _Though powerful beyond all others, the Enchanted are not without their weaknesses. As a giant may fall to a mouse, so too might an Enchanted. Weaknesses are as follows:"_ He read aloud in a tone rubbed with gravel. " _Hypnotism, Self-Destruction, or Mind Control. Stupefying and Sovereign Berserk abilities_." He paused and stared at Belle with hard and weary eyes. " _And finally, Lykodeces."_

"Death by wolves." Belle breathed slowly.

"Death by wolves." The Beast agreed. "Yes, but there is more to the word." He turned his tremendous body around and strode for a bookshelf a few steps away.

His large paw ran along the spines of several volumes before stopping suddenly and snatching at a skinny black notebook. With almost lightning movements, he was back standing before Belle and flipping furiously through the priceless pages.

"Ah," he said, pausing and dropping the small open book on the table before the girl.

Belle sat forward slowly and looked down at the page. The text was small and she had to bend closer to see. The words made a chill run down her spine.

She read out loud in a slightly breathless tone. _"And it was a cruel death. And it was a slow death. For the wolves had overpowered him with an unnatural strength. Evil and dark and deranged as though urged by more than hunger. Demonic, as though mutated by dark magics. Lykodeces was his cause of death. And the people mourned"_

The words seemed to echo in the beautiful space and Belle suddenly felt cold. She reached for her cloak and draped herself. When she looked up the Beast was pacing.

"The wolves are being manipulated by dark magic. You're right, Savior, we can assume that the dark beast also used one or all of these types of magic to defeat the Enchanted. Hypnotism, Self-Destruction, or Mind Control. Stupefying and Sovereign Berserk abilities. What do you know of these methods?" He asked pausing his steps and placing his paws on the table before her.

His height was intimidating, as were the horns that twisted to the ceiling and the claws that gripped the table, but Belle held his gaze.

"Not enough."

The Beast nodded once and turned to the walls of books. "Then, now we begin."

 **A.N. All rights to Walt Disney**

Hello, readers. Here we have a genuine study party. What are your thoughts on this team up? I don't know about you, but I want to read those books. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, don't make me use my stupefying or berserk abilities!

I want to thank my reviewers, especially PastOneta, brighteyes, pinkdynamite, Tek Sonay, and Bookloverdream and my lovely guest reviewers. You guys have no idea how much your reviews mean to me. It is such an encouragement to keep writing this story. As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting. –S.


	31. Chapter 30: Child

Chapter 30: Child

It was beautiful. The purity of it. His heavy breathing slowed as his lungs filled with the putrid perfume of the corpses.

 _Pride._

It swelled within him.

He moved in solemn restraint, taking in the magnificent tableau before him. His eyes glistened and his tongue swelled, producing wet grunts.

The assault had been vicious. The lifeless bodies still showed signs of shock. Their death masks were forever startled and snarled. They were all there and the circle was brood and deep. Black fur and scarlet streaks stained the pure pale snow; a bloodshot eye on the face of the forest floor.

The crimson ice crunched under his paws as he moved closer. He could smell him.

 _Finally!_

The precious scent he had lost for so long.

It clung to the matted gray and black pelts of his pack. It drifted up his nostrils and the dark creature lifted his head in ecstasy. His mighty horns swayed. A symphony of delights shook his flesh and his fur bristled. A great roar tore through him and bellowed forth into the shivering trees.

The forest erupted.

The screeching of fowl and beast alike raged in the fading light of the sun. Claws and teeth gnashed. Hooves pounded and wings beat wildly. The dark one's own wolves cowered onto their bellies and pawed at the snow in fear. The creature did not hear the uproar, nor did he see. His eyes were filled with victory and his ears the distant sound of an infant's cry. The memory of the babe surged through him and he felt a dark longing.

 _Child._

It had been there. It had created this masterpiece for _him_. He rejoiced even as his mind detected something else.

When he reached the center of the circle he paused. The dark beast felt his massive heart begin to race as the scent changed. It was his child…and another. A female. Her flowery scent clung to a fallen branch. He sniffed the wood once loudly and noted skull fragments. The female had fought with aptitude and felled many of his force. One such wolf lay on his side against a tree, another at the foot of the mound.

The creature moved on.

The Old Soldier was to his right. Blackening fluid clung to his muzzle and dripped into the snow. The gray animal had been with him since the fall of the immortals. Never had he left his master's side until this battle. The dark one inspected his aged face and snarled.

 _Impotent wolf. Flimsy wolf._

The creature nudged the animal onto his back. Beneath him, in a diagonal sweep across his stomach and chest, was a violent gash not made by man.

The subtle tang of magic charged the air. He could smell it, taste it –and it was connected to his child.

With a swift movement, the dark beast leaped forward and onto The Old Soldier. His heavy tongue pushed through his sharp fangs and scraped across the gaping wound. Iron and salt filled his mouth. Then there was something more. The flavor sharpened past his lips and vibrated his teeth. The dark beast drooled heavily onto the creature and spat. Fury filled his eyes. The taste was familiar and impossible.

 _Dead. Dead_.

He protested with violence.

 _Dead. The immortal were all dead!_

Images of delicious extermination filled his fevered brain. He licked his snout and snorted. He could still feel the power squeeze between his fangs. He could hear the cries. Male, female, child—none had been spared. None. The immortals had all perished.

But here was the taste…the wounds, and the imprints in the snow. The smell. His child was not as he had been before. It had lost the sweet, sweet flavor of man meat. There had been a transformation. It was a change of flesh and bone that should not have been but was.

The dark one rested his horns on either side of The Old Solder's stiff body. His claws flexed in the snow and dug into the earth. He filled his lungs with the scent in huge gulps.

It couldn't be denied. An immortal had survived. It had lived and worse; it had altered his child.

The dark one turned his head, heedless of the damage his horns did to the fallen creature beneath him. He gazed on to another of his pack. Its stealthy form had been ripped almost in two. The immortal had given his child claws like rapiers and the strength of ten wolves. It had given him height and speed, as indicated by the tracks that led to and from the circle of death.

The creature growled again and thrust his front paws high in the air. With savage fists and claws, he beat down on the dead wolf below him. His anger poured forth in black waves and he spent it on the animal with an unbridled force.

The witnessing wolves whimpered and moved together into a tight nest of fur. They watched in fear as their master released his anger on one of their own. It was seconds only, but the remains of The Old Soldier were no longer recognizable as a wolf.

The dark one paused and turned to his pack. They trembled at the sight of him. His massive black mane gleamed with a thick red pulp and his claws stretched out to the hiding sun. His eyes twitched in madness. The pack could only bow their noses and wait.

The dark creature stepped forward and his fur left veins of blood on the snow. He sniffed the icy earth and paused.

 _The scent_.

Then he lifted his head in triumph and began to run. His speed was jarring but the wolves soon trailed behind him. He didn't look back. He didn't acknowledge or notice them. His mind was elsewhere. It burrowed into the frozen darkness. It danced in ebony dreams. His thoughts twisted into mania, a delirium of manic joy.

 _His child_.

So close. So altered but still his own.

 _An immortal_.

In need of being devoured.

 _The female._

Would she fight him as she did his pack? He thought not. He could feel his blood thicken and his mouth salivate.

The wolves behind him ran silent, barely allowing their exhausted pants to puff into the icy air. The animals of the forest also quieted as though simultaneously filling their lungs. He was left to delight in his ruminations and one thought twisted out over and over. Still.

 _Mine._

 _Mine._

 **A.N. All rights to Disney**

Hello readers! Well, here's a creepy one for you! Have you had your fill of gore yet? ;) Would you forgive me if I promised more Gaston in the next installment? Ha! Deal! ;)

I do wonder about you, oh lovely readers. Do you find this story too dark? Or, like me, do you find that some bitterness makes the sweet parts sweeter? Thoughts? I'm all ears! Let me know and you'll be _Mine. Mine._

I hope to thank some of you awesome people for putting me back on course. Jaxtina, Bookloverdream, PastOneonta, pinkdynamite, my dear writing pal Tek Sonay, and Shiloh Grace- a true critic and ally. You are all a delight. Thank you also those of you who have private messaged me with threats and encouragement, lol, points well taken.

As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting. -S.


	32. Chapter 31: Please Let Me Through

Chapter 31: Please Let Me Through

The golden woman stared at him and waited. Her perfect face was a silent mask but her eyes glowed in question.

The hunter turned and sat on an exposed root. He folded his long legs and placed a beaten boot over his bent knee. Then he smiled.

It was Gaston's second-best smile. Not the best. _That was only for…_ No, this smile was his _selling_ smile. He got rich off of this smile.

He felt his chin dimple and the sides of his eyes crinkle up. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and leaned forward. "It's an easy deal. _Me_ for them. Trust me," he paused "you're getting a bargain."

Then the hunter winked.

The witch didn't move. She didn't smile. Her breathing didn't change. But Gaston saw it- a slight flicker in her eyes. He almost chuckled out loud.

She tilted her haloed head to the side and watched him. She took light steps and Gaston noticed her feet barely brushed the ground.

 _A handy trick_ , he thought to himself.

The witch paused when she reached him. Her long gown billowed out behind her in soft waves in the wind and her blonde hair rippled down her sides. She lifted her brows into glistening arches and spoke.

"How intriguing. Please, continue."

Gaston kept his smile in place. "You've made your point. I'll join you. If…" He trailed off and waited.

"If?" The woman asked in a deceptively sweet tone.

Gaston rose to his feet and let the smile fall away. His beautiful face hardened and grew stone-like. He knew the effect of this change would have had most men running in the other direction.

" _If_ , you let those men go." He finished with an icy glare.

Gaston scrutinized the witch's expression and posture. To others, she might have appeared at ease, but Gaston could recognize her war stance. It was subtle; a slight turn of her hip; a pale gripe on her staff. Even her ears seemed lifted as though she could hear his heartbeat. Gaston slowed his breathing in response.

" _Those men,_ Hunter? Ah, the 'Men of the Vines'?" The witch asked with slow precision. She almost drew a response from the man. Then she continued. "I'm afraid they are not your concern."

Gaston felt his temper rise and fought it down. In the past, she seemed to able to sense his anger and he'd be hell bound if she used it as a weakness. His smile reappeared and he flashed his white teeth.

"Damned if they aren't. You've punished them long enough. It's me you're after, witch. Do you want me? Take me."

The witch watched him for a long moment and then turned away. "Follow me, Hunter." She spoke over her shoulder and began to step toward the water. Her footprints dinted the snowy ground and left a trail of glittering silver behind her.

Gaston waited a moment. He straightened his bow on his shoulder and lifted his bag from the ground. Then he bit down on his bottom lip and shook his head. He caught up with the woman a second later.

She had paused by the water's edge and was staring into the shimmering liquid. Her eyes lifted and Gaston was surprised to see the gold within was replaced with emerald green. Then she blinked and the gold blazed anew.

"Look into the water, Hunter." She ordered softly. Her hand trailed up and the water shivered beneath it. Tiny sparks shot from her fingertips and shocked the surface until it boiled. Gaston frowned but took a step closer and looked into its depths.

The water was a riot of bubbles and steam. Gaston felt the heat rise up and warm his frozen face. He surveyed the mist and waited for an image to appear. When it did not, he looked over at the woman beside him. She had dipped her fingers into the water and Gaston watched her hands sink out of sight. He reached out a large hand to pull her away from the scarring heat but the witch shook her head.

"Keep your eyes on the water, Hunter." She warned and her voice sounded very close to his ear. He obeyed reluctantly and flicked his gaze back to the rolling waves. The fog was growing heavy and it moistened Gaston's thick black hair until it hung in damp ringlets against his neck.

"I don't see anything." He answered back, peering even harder at the surrounding haze.

No faces appeared. There were no massive creatures or bloody wars. If Gaston expected to have visions swirl before his eyes, he was disappointed. He shook his head and took a deep breath.

The air filled Gaston's lungs. He felt his chest expand and expand until it choked him. Gaston tried to cough but he only swallowed more of the steaming water. It filled his throat and he felt his eyes begin to bulge. He turned to the witch but her face was blurry and her body swayed before him.

"Calm yourself, Hunter. Allow the mist to fill you." Her voice drifted over to Gaston.

The hunter tried to obey but his eyesight darkened and he was filled with an enormous sense of foreboding. A fear like he had never known before overcame his muscular frame. He felt his knees weaken under the weight of it. Panic rose up his spine and he raised a fist against an invisible enemy.

There was nobody there. Gaston gritted his teeth and shook his head. The fear began to leave him. His breath came in heavy gulps. The air felt toxic.

He turned his head and saw the golden light from the woman. It smeared like metallic paint across the bubbling surface.

He sucked in more of the burning mist and felt it spread out in his chest. It crept along his breast and into his ribs. It began to burrow into his bones until they felt brittle beneath his skin.

The pain filled him at once, as though all of his joints broke at the same time. Gaston grasped at his chest but couldn't make a sound. He fell to his knees. The agony was blinding. He had heard of tortures used in far-off lands that ripped men apart and suddenly knew what it felt like. His limbs hung limply at his sides. It felt as if his skin was the only thing holding him together.

He held his breath. The pain began to ease. When he breathed out again and unwillingly sucked in more of the wet air, he was surprised to find he no longer hurt.

The sweltering heat seeped out of his bones and into his organs. It melted into the soft muscles of his heart.

Gaston's eyes flew wide as the mist squeezed his most vital organ. It wrapped around his heart and thumped. The muscle began to beat rapidly. He felt his veins rush with blood and his cheeks redden. It was odd, not painful, and strangely familiar. He had felt this feeling before. His breathing hitched and his skin began to tingle. He was slightly dizzy and excited. His body was invigorated. He was strong again, brave again. His heart swelled with...love.

Gaston closed his eyes and he could almost see the face of his beloved. The feelings in him rose and promised to overflow. He was reborn, powerful, treasured. His heart beat faster until it sounded like two instead of one. The happiness in him glowed golden in his soul.

The sweltering air left his lungs and with it went his love. Gaston sucked another breath but it only left his heart hollow. When he breathed in again the hot spray burned his throat.

His mind began to spin. The water that burnt his throat traveled up to his brain and filled his eyes with tears. He was overcome by mind-splitting sadness. It was a loss that was truly physical and Gaston felt the misery of it in every thought. It felt more real than any heartbreak he had ever known. Depression and dismay overwhelmed him. The grief was unavoidable. Gaston put a hand against his chest and pushed hard. The air left his lungs in a rush and he bent over, panting.

He gulped and waited for the torture to continue. It did not. He was free from the tormenting mist.

After a moment, Gaston looked over to the witch.

She was waist deep in the boiling water. It washed over her hips and tugged at her long yellow hair. Her eyes were closed in burning agony. Gaston shook his head and without thinking, strode toward her.

Before she could open her eyes, he had plunged into the burning liquid and yanked the woman to him. The water was scorching. It scolded his skin through the leather of his breeches. Gaston roared against the pain as he pulled her with him to the shore. The woman didn't fight him. She was impossibly still.

When he reached the edge of the water, Gaston grasped the woman and threw them both onto the snowy ground. He felt the peeling skin of his thighs fuse to his pants. The bottoms of his feet blistered against the arches of his boots. He knew he was in pain, but his mind couldn't focus on it. Instead, his adrenaline rose. He looked down at the silent woman.

Her eyes were still closed but he knew with certainty that she did not sleep. He gathered large mounds of snow in his hands and he began to pack it against the woman's legs and feet. He placed it around her hips and burnt fingertips.

"Come on. Come on." He repeated over and over as he placed his cold hands against her face. Her skin wasn't pale or red. She showed no sign of the pain he knew she must feel.

Gaston sat back on his tortured feet and stared at her. She looked almost serene. He bent down closer for a better look and suddenly the witch's eyes flew open. Her green orbs blazed with golden light as she turned her gaze to the bewildered man.

Then she smiled her very best smile.

 **A.N. All rights to Disney.**

Hello readers! It's been a while! I just wanted to let you know that on top of this new addition, I've also done some major editing to almost every other chapter. There were some much-needed changes that I think make the story flow better. More interesting dialogue and even some Beast cuddles. I hope you enjoy the changes!

So, what are your thoughts on poor Gaston? The guy can't catch a break! Any idea about what this is all about? Share your thoughts and you might win a dip in a pool with our favorite hunter!

I want to thank all of you for coming back to my story, especially those of you who have shared your reviews or PM's. Thank you venimeux, pinkdynamite, my bud Tek Sonay, Bookloverdream, ItachiFanGirl185 (so glad you are following!) livia101 (dude, I updated! :)), jb8410, squishmich, BarbieBunnie2015, and all my awesome guest reviewers! You guys are sunshine and lollypops!

As always, thank you for reading, reviewing, following and/or favoriting! -S.


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